


Bad Vibe Champions

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Asari Characters, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate to Love, Human, Language, Love/Hate, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance, Smut, Tsundere, Turians, love to hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 166,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reapers are coming, Cerberus is up to no good and surviving collectors still endanger colonies. The Alliance isn't purely human anymore - apt fighters from all races form squads under the command of the Fifth Fleet, giving their best to stop the galaxy from breaking into chaos. Arek Turner, an exceptional human adept, is teamed up with the asari valkyrie Amalthea, the turian engineer Meyrani, and, to his despair, Mojo, all-around turian jerk. The former Ghost Infiltrator is rude, refuses teamwork, and goes out of his way to show his resentment to Arek, bringing out the worst of the usually cheerful everybody's darling. Sick of Mojo's aloof lone wolf attitude, Arek doesn't miss a beat when the chance to provoke him offers itself.</p><p>When stern words and motivational speeches fail, the question isn't if things have to go downhill first, but how far.</p><p>And as though interpersonal conflicts aren't enough, the squad stumbles over some worrisome leads that connect what looked like an every day crime to something bigger. They've witnessed only the tip of the iceberg, but the next step is to convince their captain that more is going on than hunches, coincidences and insubordination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Mass Effect fanfic, inspired by many hours of playing ME multiplayer with [Blastedking](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/), after her human adept's biotic abilities pulled a Cerberus Trooper out of sight the second when my turian ghost wanted to headshot it.  
> [Click here](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/tagged/Champions) for some sweet artwork by the same Blastedking.
> 
> (Explicit content appears in later chapters and will be tagged accordingly)

“Do you hear me? Meyrani?” A shot cut the air above his head, and Arek swore he felt his hair tingle. A little bit too precise for his liking, and coming from the left stairway – wonderful, if they flanked him from both sides he was in trouble. He took cover behind the door frame of the evacuated lab and peeked around the corner. “Meyrani? Do you copy? I need a little help!”

“Amalthea here! Meyrani is wounded. Can you come over here?”

He heard the strain in the asari's usually mellow but confident voice. Her words were interrupted by a hail of projectiles – Meyrani's turret. So they were close to that beast of a weapon. Good. If the turian wasn't in the state to keep it going under fire – less good.

“Like I'd ever say no when you call for me,” he muttered. A quick glance on his omni-tool gave their position away, close to the shuttle's landing zone. “Other end of this damn place, typical.” A window shattered, shards of glass rained into his hiding place.

The good – once he was out here, he'd be at the rendezvous spot in a few minutes. The bad – Cerberus troopers were closing in from one side, more or them from the other side, and he would have sworn he'd spotted at least two red dots searching for his forehead. The ugly – nope, couldn't get much worse than this unless they brought phantoms. Phantoms. He snorted. More like space ninjas, didn't Cerberus have any pride?

 

“Thea, any sign of Mojo?” He chuckled at the current of asarian curses. That the translator couldn't catch them told him more about Amalthea's opinion about their sniper than the actual words if he understood them.

“You're sexy when you're pissed.” So, what were his options? He had enough strength left for a biotic attack or two. Left way – longer, good spots to take cover, for him and the enemy forces alike. Right way – shorter, and he'd offer himself on a silver plate.

“Move your dumb ass over here, at once!”

“Of course, milady!” Where the fuck was that turian asshole if he – for once – could use his help? “Screw him. Alright, have to get outta here all by my lonely self, so I'll get outta here all by my lonely self.”

“Stop monologuing and HURRY! Shuttle's coming!”

“On my way! Oh fuck...” A grenade rolled through the doorway. Smoke bomb!

Coughing, he staggered towards the broken window. Dammit, the filter of his mask was broken, just what he needed right now. Plus, his ankles were hurting. Meyrani was right, he should consider climbing ladders once in a while instead of jumping down, especially without checking what awaited him below. Like the remains of broken furniture.

 

“There are no problems, only challenges. Come on, kid, don't embarrass the human race now!” He took a deep breath and dashed towards the window. He catapulted himself forward, a biotic shield flickering around him when he broke through the last intact glass panel.

Arek rolled over the ground and leapt back to his feet – and ran. Amalthea was yelling in his ear, projectiles were buzzing around him, and he almost missed the treacherous humming of a Nemesis' rifle. He dived down and rolled out of the deadly shot's way. Something exploded behind him, but he'd care another day. Throwing a volley of shock waves to his left and right he kept running, counting on his luck that they'd throw some of the troopers off their feet. A slim figure jumped out of her cover, a blue force field flickering around her.

“To hell with you, space ninja!” he panted behind his helmet. “Come on, come on, just a small one!” He dashed towards the phantom in front of him. At this rate, that jerk just needed to lift her blade and he'd run right into it, unless...

“Hallelujah!” A blue, wavering cloud formed behind the phantom and pulled her up into the air. The singularity field was weak, and she dropped to the ground only a second after her sword. But that was enough for Arek.

Gathering what strength and breath he had left he sprinted past her.

He jumped around another corner, hearing swift steps behind him closing up.

 

“YO!” He yelled over the bullets and the shrill yells behind his back. He leapt over a steam pipe and let himself fall. Rolling on his back, he looked up at the two familiar faces.

The dark eyes of the asari sentinel glared at him, the blue eyes of the turian engineer blinked, and fell shut again. Meyrani was leaning against Amalthea, her left arm covered with a blood-soaked bandage. More blood seeped between the cracks of the armor of her left leg.

“Rani, forget what I ever said about scrap metal. I love your turret, she's a babe, just like you!” Panting, he sat up and pulled his SMG from his back.

The Engineer chuckled, but the sound changed into a pained groan when she tried to retort.

“Bad?”

“Bad enough.” Amalthea clenched her fists. Arek wondered if she owed the frightening growl to her krogan father, or if all asari could make this spine-chilling noise. If so, he made a mental note to himself, he better crossed asari worlds from his vacation list.

“Where's the shuttle?” a deep, monotonous voice was ringing in his ears.

“Now, where are YOU coming from, all of the sudden?” Arek spat at the turian.

“Over there.” He pointed at the wall of crates behind them. “Too much going on in the passages and yards. Did you do any work at all?” He slumped to the ground next to Arek, stretching his legs. His sniper rifle rested on his lap.

“Listen, you idiot!” Arek jumped to his feet, but a dozen of projectiles flying over his head quickly convinced him to fall back behind their cover.

“Mojo, we could have needed you, either here with Meyrani, or as a backup for Arek!” Amalthea's fists were trembling, and Arek feared for a moment she'd repeat his mistake and stand up, just for the satisfaction of shouting down at the turian.

“My job description said nothing about babysitting amateurs. If you can't take care of yourself, go back to the training room, and let the professionals do the work.”

“Don't even think you can talk to us like that!” Arek shoved himself between Mojo and Amalthea. There was this sparkle in her eye, and it wouldn't help any of them if she hurled a warp blow at him. Not that the thought wasn't tempting. He almost envied her to have enough strength left for another attack. Well, as he didn't, he'd have to use his common sense.

“Let me guess, you found a nest somewhere in the back, and were counting headshots, right?” He took the lack of a reply as a “yes.”. If there was an opportunity, no matter how small, to rub into anyone's face when they were wrong, Mojo wouldn't let it slip.

“Dammit, is it that difficult for your brain to get?” _Maybe it helps if I grabbed your rifle and clobbered it over your head. How would you like that, asshole?_ “We're four against dozens on these special ops, we rely on teamwork! How 'bout pulling yourself together for a change, and add to it?”

“You're the leader now?”

“Uh...”

“Stop preaching then.” He lifted his rifle and looked through the scope. Arek withstood the urge to turn his head around. If Mojo was aiming at something specific, he'd take care of it. If not – he'd let Arek know that he was fooled too easily, and Arek wouldn't promise that he wouldn't try to conjure a warp attack, even if it pulled his own body apart.

“Pah, like you'd listen if I was the leader.” If he strangled him now, would anybody convict him? If they knew what he had to put up with day after day? Arrogant son of a bitch who thought he was so much better than the rest of them! Arek would give his left hand for an opportunity to kick Mojo from his high horse.

“You know what? Maybe I'll be the leader! It's not decided yet, and I can tell you square who'd suck at being the leader! Have a hint, he's obnoxious, a millstone around our necks during missions, and he's also ugly!”

“Don't be so hard on yourself.”

“Oh, come on, now you aren't even trying!”

“As fuzz-face is too busy with prattling,maybe YOU have time tell me where that shuttle is.” Mojo nodded at the growling asari.

“Oh, don't worry, Mojo. We're fine. We failed to hack the data protocols, Meyrani is hurt but won't die, and we almost lost Arek because nobody had his back. Thanks for asking.”

“The shuttle?”

“Goddess help me...” She looked up into the sky, sending a quick, silent prayer. “I called it, it's coming, and will be here in a few minutes. Happy?”

“If you tell me next time that it takes another while instead of lying, maybe.”

“Arek, hold Rani for a moment, I'll-”

Arek rolled from his spot over to the asari. He patted her back, giving an understanding nod. Then he crept along the air duct that built the last barrier of their hideout, raising his head enough to risk a peek. He thought he had heard the sound of metal stomping on solid ground, and he didn't like it at all.

“Don't waste your breath on our little Miss Sunshine. What do you think reaches us first, our shuttle, or their Atlas? If you win, I owe you dinner.”

 


	2. A Dreaded Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A failed mission does not stay unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here for artwork of Arek Turner, created by Blastedking.](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/130692317313/this-biotic-sunshine-here-is-arek-turner-who-is)

“You know it's a bad sign when you're called to the fleet's admiral himself after a failed mission. Thanks a lot, Mojo.” Arek clenched his fists, wishing he could bury them in his pockets. They'd been summoned by the admiral the moment they left the shuttle.

They were still in their armor, covered with dust and blood, and he feared he looked as pathetic as he felt. Partly felt, but he doubted that the boiling anger inside him could be reflected by his battle suit. He’d trade the pay of three months for a shower and slipping into casual clothes. As it was, they had barely time to remove their helmets and protection masks.

Damn this day, he had had a weird feeling about it the moment they had been deployed. The first hour or two had gone well, but then they screwed it. Or rather, Mojo did. Which meant all of them screwed it because they didn’t manage to make him a part of the team.

He had been hoping against hope to be assigned as his squad's leader since they'd been put together by the ship's commander two weeks ago. The ship had been engaged in battles and special operations soon after he had boarded it, and there hadn't been time for formalities. It didn't matter, they worked together well without a specific rank order. With one exception.

Mojo or not, once things had gotten a little calmer, and once they had finished a few assignments, there should have been said a final word on that matter.

Meyrani had said from the beginning that she just wanted to do her job for the benefit of the team, but had no interest in leading a group of mixed races.

Amalthea, however, was a born leader, and she was used to working in multiracial squads. She was strong, smart, and, well, more disciplined than Arek, he had to admit. But only slightly!

Mojo? Out of question. If Arek was honest, being the team's leader, and therefore responsible for Mojo's actions and behavior was nothing to look forward to.

 

“Sit down,” a voice commanded once they stepped into the admiral's office. The three of them took place on three visitor chairs, even the turian followed Admiral Hackett's words.

 _Here we go._ Arek took a deep breath, waiting for the storm that the admiral's calm face promised to break loose. Finally, he was meeting the legend, the admiral of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. Hackett's reputation preceded him, but Arek wasn't in need of the rumors to know what to expect. Stern justice, which would have thrilled him if they hadn't failed the mission.

Dammit, right now, if he had a choice, he'd switch with Meyrani in a heartbeat. Torn flesh, blood loss, and emergency treatment in the sickbay sounded more alluring than sitting here.

“You are members of the fifth fleet. All three of you, as well as Miss Avilius, are here because you're capable fighters, and because your prior superiors assured me you were assets to this war.” Hackett spoke with the same calm voice that had asked them in. With his wrinkled face and the gray beard he looked old, and a bit tired, Arek noted. But it was a face mirroring years of experience and responsibility. The admiral's posture still spoke of vigor, and the glare of his eyes made Arek pray that Hackett would never fight on the side of the reapers.

“Missions are won and lost, but it's the _how_ that decides if a fleet is proud of their squad, or ashamed. I doubt I have to tell you what you brought to us today.”

God, that was worse than being called to the principle, back in his school days. Arek stopped himself from flinching. He tried to hold his hands still on his lap, but couldn't help clawing his fingers around his mask. If the admiral only sat down, maybe he wouldn't feel like he was a 13 years old boy.

The speech went on for a little while longer, each word a precise hit against his pride, and his honor as a human, soldier and biotic. He didn't dare to look at Amalthea and Mojo. It wasn't hard to guess, however, to read their faces. Amalthea had enough pride as a soldier for a dozen human veterans, and Mojo – no, it was for the better that he didn't see Mojo's bored, uncaring expression.

His eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. The simple design had almost fooled him, but unlike most of the ship's interior, it wasn't made of metal. A dark, almost black wood of some kind, Arek wasn't an expert on these things. He was surprised to find an individual piece of furniture in an office that the admiral only visited once in a while, but it was comforting. Despite his straight pose and his clear-cut words, Hackett was still human.

 _So we'll live!_ He bit his tongue to hold back a chuckle. _Come on, Arek, this isn't a good moment for silly thoughts and laughter._ Not that he felt like laughing; however, he wished he could do just that. Having a good laugh at their stupidity, go on with life, and do better next time.

“Anything you have to say? Mr. Turner?”

Arek winced at the question. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, casting a glance at the turian.

No. Asshole or not, Mojo had not dragged him down so far that he'd rat out a squad mate. Yet.

“No, Sir,” he muttered.

“We won't disappoint you again, Admiral Hackett! Assign another mission to us, any mission, asap, and we'll prove that we are an asset to this war!” Amalthea had jolted up to her feet. Her shoulders were shaking, but her voice was firm as she looked Admiral Hackett straight into his eyes without blinking.

“I hope you are aware there's no other option for you.” Hackett nodded at the human and the turian. Arek rose, straightening his back. Mojo followed, slow enough for Arek to wish to punch his face.

“The circumstances are dire with the reapers at our doors. You can thank them, in any other war I would have removed you from the fleet.”

Arek and Amalthea exchanged a quick glance. The admiral was right. That they got a second chance wasn't an act of generosity or kindness.

_Able to think somewhat for yourself, capable of holding a weapon and willing to pull the trigger?_

_Join the war, have fun, make friends, save the galaxy. In other words – be fed to the reapers or something like that. Either make a difference or buy time for those who do._

It wasn't the first time Arek regretted joining this war, but on the other hand, was there really a way to escape it? If he had to go down with everything and everyone, he'd rather do so fighting than hiding. Would also make a better story in case he survived.

“I cannot take responsibility for transferring another engineer to an unstable squad at this point. There's a war happening out there, this is not the time for us to focus on a small team of adults behaving like children.

Commander Crusher is waiting for a status update on Miss Avilius. Depending on how quickly she'll recover, she'll either rejoin you, or the three of you will be transferred to other squads.

Valkyrie Almathea, you're in command of the squad until further notice. Turn this mess into a team and get work _done_ in the future. Dismissed.”

 

A silent trio closed the door of the Admiral's temporary quarter behind them.

“Now, that was awful. I felt like I was 40 again,” Almathea groaned once they walked around the first corner. “Listen, I never want to have this happen again, and believe me, I'll make sure it won't!”

“Heard you, boss! No objection from my side.” Arek jumped two steps ahead and blocked Mojo's way. “I swear by my grandmother's ashes, if you keep bringing down the squad with your dumb stunts, you'll regret it!” He poked the turian's chest, an action he regretted the very next moment when Mojo seized his wrist. The strength of the grip was painful enough to bring a man to his knees, but Arek gritted his teeth. He'd rather have his wrist broken before he only flinched.

“How cute, shorty is threatening me.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Amalthea shoved herself between the two men. Mojo let go of Arek, and both stepped apart. “You two won't brawl! Not during a mission, not while in the lounge, and certainly not a few steps away from Admiral Hackett, and that's an order!”

She took a deep breath, fighting against the frown on her face and the growl coming up her throat.

“Okay.” She exhaled, and turned towards Mojo. “You! Don't play dumb, you know very well that you're the reason why we're the only squad in the whole fleet that doesn't work as a team. You don't want to pull your weight on your own account, fine! But you'll listen to my orders whenever we're on duty! When I order you to go with Arek and have his back during a raid, you'll make sure that not even a dust particle hits him, understood? Good,” she added when he shrugged.

“Ha, well spoken. I'll pray for a sandstorm next time, so better polish your scope.” Arek's chuckle broke off when Amalthea's head snapped around and her dark glare pierced right through his eyes into his brain.

“Arek Turner, for the Goddess' sake, shut up! The situation is hard on all of – yes, ALL of us!” she hissed in response to Mojo's snort. “And you're not making it easier, so here's my order for you: Stop provoking him! No threats, no mocking, no gloating. If there's nothing nice to say, keep your mouth shut!”

“Oh, come on, Thea, if I was that bad I'd have told on him back there with the Admiral!”

“How generous of you.” Mojo gave a dry laugh and took a mock bow. “I'm almost glad I didn't tell him about your incompetence and inappropriate behavior during missions and towards the squad.”

“I'm so very proud of both of you.” Almathea shook her head, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “If you continued to keep quiet like that a little bit longer it would be wonderful. Seriously, guys, I'm centuries away from my matron stage, stop making me talk like a mother.”

“Sorry, Thea, honey, I'll try- I'll shut up from now on, boss!” Arek hurried to correct himself when she shot another glare at him.

“Thank you.” The shadow of a smile flashed across her face. “We can do better than what happened on- wait.” The message signal of her omni-tool interrupted her. After a quick glance, she sighed.

“Bad news?” Arek gave her a sympathetic pat on the back, trying to catch a glimpse of the message.

“Commander Crusher wants to talk to me, so my guess is – yes.” Her fingers flew across the interface as she confirmed the order. “Let's visit Meyrani later. You, too, Mojo! Meanwhile, Arek, please report your broken filter to Jim before you hit the shower. Call it a day after that.”

“Copy that.” With a grin, Arek clicked his heels together and saluted.

“Clown.” Mojo pushed Arek out of his way and hurried down the corridor before the growling asari could open her mouth.

 


	3. Let's Hit the Spacebar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are the odds that love is in the air, and what are the payouts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The odds of the author being shot for silly puns are low.  
> ([but click here for Artwork No 3 first please!](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/130889294523/and-here-we-have-mojo-d-who-is-the-other-main))

A shower later and after trading the tight suit armor for more comfortable pants and a loose fitting shirt, Arek was looking forward to spend a few moments in the lounge. The hot water had soothed his aching muscles, and his frustration with today's mission was washed down the drain along with sweat and dust.

He stroke over his face. The short, red hair covering his chin was his beardy pride; he had given up on a full beard years ago, but maybe he should still have shaved the stray stubble on his cheeks today.

He was glad he didn't when the memory of a mocking voice calling him 'fuzz-face' returned.

 _Fuck you, porcupine, you're just jealous, as mom would have said!_ Maybe he should never shave again, only to spite Mojo.

He ran his fingers through his short, still wet hair. Too bad his pay wasn't based on the number of degrading remarks made by Mojo about his hair, his facial hair, his hair being red, his hair existing... He pulled a grimace to make the grim frown disappear, and put on a smile.

Things would turn for the better next time, with Thea now in charge. They'd only have to wait for Rani's recovery, and the lady was tough – as long as she wasn't dead, nothing would stop her from jumping back into action. If it weren't for THAT guy, Arek would love his squad.

 

“Look who's here! Hey, Arek!” the creaking voice of a drell welcomed him the moment the door slid open.

“Kalron! Back from duty already?” He shook his friend's hand and followed him into the lounge. Three squads with four members each added to the crew of the SSV Hamburg, and at least one was usually deployed to a planet or space station, or supported the crew of another cruiser or frigate. Squads were formed from several races, with focus on their abilities. The crew mostly consisted of humans, but over the last two years, the Alliance welcomed whoever was willing to assist, enlisting them as full or temporary members.

Arek saw being assigned to outstanding soldiers like Almathea and Meyrani as an honor, and praise for his skills. It took him some effort, however, not to see Mojo as a personal insult.

“Sure. And from what I heard we did a much better job than you guys. Wine?” Kalron had guided him to the bar and waved for Patrick. The wiry, elderly human had retired from 40 years as a head of the canteen a few years ago but returned to duty once he heard of the reaper attack. He was in charge of the bar, making sure that the crew was allowed a few moments of recreation between shifts and mission, without overdoing it.

“Beer. Thanks, Patrick. Busy evening?” Not that terms like morning or evening applied in their environment, but as far as Arek was concerned, it was evening the moment he stepped into a bar.

“People always feel a strong need to relax when the high and mighty visited.” Patrick gestured at the roughly thirty visitors, and, with a tired smile, he hurried to a pair of asari adepts.

“Poor guy.” Arek sipped on his beer. Good, almost as good as those from earth. Could be a little colder, though.

On a regular day, rarely more than a dozen crew- or squad members visited the lounge. The room that was quite spacey usually was cramped now, and a whirl of voices flooded the four walls. It was loud, lively, and full of complaints, shouting and bragging. Arek loved it.

 

“How unfortunate, to end a mission with such a miserable outcome, on the day the Admiral grants us a visit.”

Arek allowed himself to smile. Kalron spoke with the solemnity of a priest on a funeral, and he'd do so if he had heard that Arek lost a pencil. He appreciated his friend's sympathy, especially today because it was genuine but also amusing.

“Yeah. Talking about bad timing. You heard the story?”

“Not the details, but I know who you have to put up with, and that the two of you were about to jump each other's throat after your talk with Admiral Hackett. I'm glad that Almathea was with you.” Now it was the Drell's turn to grin when Arek stared at him in surprise.

“When the fuck did you hear about that?”

“How do you humans call it? News travel fast through the grapevine? You should know, my friend, that in these dark days, your, let's say, confrontations with Mojo have become a means of entertainment to many. I even heard,” Kalron leaned closer. He cleared his throat, and whispered, “some of the crew have taken to betting. As far as I'm informed, there are three very popular bets: Who will win a fight, when will it happen, and what will happen first – you two brawling or kissing.”

“Ew, God!” Arek coughed, spitting out his drink. Kalron chuckled and wiped the beer from his face. Arek cleaned his own with the sleeve of his shirt and emptied his can in one long gulp.

“Is everyone crazy these days?” he spat, after trading his empty drink for a new one. “First off, I will win, secondly, I hope soon, and finally, damn! My morals aren't THAT loose!”

“There are different bets running, depending on if you two agree on ex- or including biotics.”

“For one of the good guys, you are damn well informed about this unofficial gambling ring. Isn't there some kind or law or rule against it?”

They moved away from the bar when a tired looking couple from the engineering deck pleaded for a bottle of scotch.

Arek was greeted from all sides with delighted shouts and slaps on the back, and Kalron patiently waited until his human friend and one of the navigators agreed on a date for another poker game, in private.

“Allow me to say,” the drell took the earliest chance to speak, “You'll receive an invitation to dinner when you either win a fight that includes biotics this week or lose a fistfight, also this week.”

“How are the odds?” Arek laughed, and steered towards a corner at the left side of the room. If they were fast enough, they could claim two free seats on that good, old leather couch for themselves. “If it pays off for dinner, and a few drinks in the Dark Star Lounge on Citadel, I might lose on purpose!” He covered the last distance with a jump and slumped into the comfortable cushions before a salarian beat him to it.

“Arek, winning by fraud is not honorable.” Kalron sat down next to him, a stern expression on his serious face.

“So is breaking a dozen rules and at least as many laws to bet on your friend. Oh, fuck it. Talking about breaking about a dozen things.” Arek let his head drop against the back of the couch and poured more beer into his open mouth.

“Is something wrong?”

“Charming company.” He pointed at the second couch, standing about two meters away from them. A drell and a turian had occupied most of the sofa, and were engaged in a lively discussion. Arek couldn't understand what they were saying; the tone was hostile, but if he didn't misread their faces, they were enjoying themselves. Well, that was what he read from the drell's face, he was never too sure with turians. And frankly, when it was about Mojo's freaking face, he didn't give a damn if that jerk was enjoying himself or not.

“Great, and I skipped dinner because I wasn't in the mood to see scar-face there.” Arek bit the rim of his beer can. “Still can't believe he has a friend.”

“I doubt it, I know for a fact that Barat isn't very fond of him. I assume it's more an arrangement born of mutual interests.”

“Like what? Both being jerks?”

“That, bragging and both being infiltrators. I overheard them showing off numbers of headshots the other day.”

“Bragging over his damn headshot count after he cost us the mission's success, that's Mojo for you.” He took another gulp, his fingers slowly tapping on the armrest. “Asshole.”

“I'm relieved I bet on 'brawling',” Kalron said with a chuckle. He sat up, and leaned closer, assuring that nobody overheard them. “Did you hear? About his scar?”

“What about it? Thought he caught a rocket with his face or something satisfying like that.”

“It's a rumor, but you did notice how symmetrical it is, and that he's barefaced? Missing a facial tattoo?” he explained when Arek gave him a questioning look.

“It's kinda a big deal among turians, isn't it?”

“Correct. They stand for the colony or tribe they were born into, it's apart of their identity. I overheard a conversation between Marek and Kat from the kitchen crew. There's a rumour that his tribe or colony exiled him. Whatever the reason was, it was bad enough to burn the tattoo from his face, so that nobody may assume he still belongs to them. Banished through and through, if you want to say so.” The drell had to catch his breath after gushing the torrent of gossip.

“Wow, really? No wonder he's so damn calm about everything. He's used to being a disgrace.”

“I told you, it's a rumor. I didn't ask if there is any proof,” Kalron admitted.

“Got it, gonna keep it to myself for now. Let's change the topic to something more important!” A sweet smile brightened his face, he tilted his head and fluttered his green eyes at his friend. “I want more beer, but I don't wanna leave this spot, ever! Would you get me more?”

“I'm afraid that would work better with Joshua, from navigations. Or Chen, from engineering. Or-”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm horrible, I know. But you defend my spot, will you?” With a groan, he pushed himself up. Warm beer on an empty stomach after a day's work hadn't been the best idea. He felt a headache approaching, and he had to stand still for a moment for the room to stop swaying. It would be a good idea to eat something before he drank more, unless he wanted to invite a migraine and a sick stomach. Maybe he could coax Patrick to share his secret stash of snacks with him – for free.

 

Before began his stroll through the chattering groups he caught his name. No, not really his name, the exact words were 'rusted carpet-face', followed by a laugh that seemed to come with its own echo.

“Fuck you.” He turned on his heel, and with one wide step, he placed himself in front of the turian, his back straight, his head held high.

Mojo looked up at him and sighed.

“Go back to your little buddy. This is a conversation between grown-ups.” He waved his hand to shoo him away, turning his shoulder towards Arek.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Arek whistled with his sweetest voice. “And here I thought when you talk about me anyway, I might as well join.”

“Too bad that talking about you is far more amusing than talking with you.”

A few voices behind Arek snickered.

“Aren't you funny." He nodded at Barat. "Did you tell your friend that it was your fault alone that we blew it today?”

 “Aw, don't be sad, I'm sure you'll quickly find something else to blow, won't you?” Mojo's amused voice changed into a sneer of disgust, and the growing crowd around them chuckled.

“Haha, hilarious.” Heat flushed over Arek's face. It was one thing when he joked about his own morals, or if friends teased him because he, well, liked to share a bit of fun more than one partner. Having Mojo sneer about his promiscuity was a whole different thing!

“I think you're more in need of a good fuck than I. Too bad I don't know where to find a paper bag big enough to hide your ugly head.” There, that earned him a few laughs with the audience. But except for an occasional laugh or chuckle, the crowd around them fell silent. Of course they didn't want to miss another quarrel between everybody's darling Arek and Mojo, whose skill in killing with his rifle was only exceeded by his talent to piss people off. Well, if they wanted to see a show – Arek was only too willing to deliver.

“At least I don't depend on the pity of others to not feel lonely.” The turian didn't seem impressed by the fact that a whole room was listening to them, and waiting for his retort. He was still comfortably leaning against the couch's backrest, one leg lying on the other. He took a sip from his drink and turned back to Barat.

“Where was I before we were interrupted?”

 

 _Oh no! This is not over yet!_ Any reply would do, as long as he wouldn't allow him to leave him standing like he wasn't worth the turian's time.

“Glad to hear it. Guess you'd be very lonely, I mean, who pities an asshole who isn't even wanted by his own family?”

“Arek!” Kalron hissed behind him, but Arek shushed him with a wave of his hand.

 _Bull's eye!_ Arek's mouth twitched. Finally, he had his attention. The turian rose from his seat, and, at least a head taller than the human, now looked down on Arek.

“What was that?”

“That? Nothing. Or would you actually calling it a big deal that your own home colony didn't want you? That they kicked you out, but not before making sure no trace of their tattoo was left on your face? Sad story, Mojo, very sad. Need a hug?” His grin faltered when a hand shot forwards and grabbed him by his throat.

“Stop that!” he croaked as the three fingers tightened. A blindly thrown kick hit the turian's leg, but if Mojo flinched Arek missed it.

“It's a lie. You're too stupid to figure out the true story, so you make yourself important with a lie. If I hear you spread it again, I'll snap your neck.”

Arek tried to cough, but couldn't push enough air through his throat. The green eyes staring down at him were becoming blurry. Mojo was saying the truth, at least about the part to snap his neck, Arek believed him that much. He wasn't so sure about the rest, but that would have to wait. For now-

The air between them thickened as it turned blue.

The force of the shockwave swept Mojo from his feet back onto the couch. He didn't have enough time to let go of Arek and dragged him with him. Only when the human fell on top of him his hand loosened the grip.

“Ow, you should gain some fat!”

Standing only a few inches away when the shockwave hit its target tainted his vision blue for a few seconds, but the groan beneath him, and that he could breathe freely again told him it was worth it.

The swelling laughter was boiling over around him, putting an instant grin on his face. He lifted his head and poked the hard shoulder.

 

“Well, guess you didn't-” His voice broke into a yelp as a force tightened around his throat for the second time this evening. Next thing he knew was being hurled to the floor.

He blinked the last blur away as he looked up – and met the furious gaze of his squad leader.

“Amalthea, since when have you been standing there...” Well, this was one of the moments where he had better shut up. He held his breath and closed his eyes while Amalthea's wrath burst over him.

“Is that you trying? Is that the worth of your promise when you say you want to try your best? Do you think you can do what you want and ridicule our squad in front the crew because we're friends? If this is your best, Arek, go and resign! I don't need you in my squad if this is the best you are willing to do!” A deep growl rolled with her voice and threatened to drown her words. Her blue of her cheeks changed into a dark purple, and her eyes blackened when she turned around.

“And you, Mojo! Provoked or not, I will not have you threaten and hurt another squad member!”

“Wait.” Another figure shoved herself past the raging asari and took a stand in front of Mojo. “I have to tell you a few things myself, Mojo.”

“If you want to appeal to my honor and discipline as a fellow turian, Meyrani, save your breath.” Mojo struggled back to his feet, his legs still shaky from the impact, but he was standing straight as he looked down at the smaller turian woman.

Her arm was bandaged and resting in a sling. A crutch helped her to take the weight off her injured leg.

“Don't assume I'm dumb! Amalthea, I apologize for ignoring your order, but,” she let go of the crutch. Her hand shot up, and the sharp, pointy claws of her two fingers dug into the skin under Mojo's jaw.

“Mojo, I don't care that you're turian, or what's your real name,” she hissed, drilling deeper. “I don't care if you like or hate us, or what you do with your free time. You two want to beat each other up? Fine. You hate every one of us, good. But if you endanger another mission, if you drag down the honor of the squad, and ridicule my work with your incompetence one more time, I'll slit your throat.” She ripped her hand away and wiped it on her shirt, leaving two bluish marks on the white fabric.

“Remember the most important thing about both of us being turian: I know where to place the blade.”

“This is a mess...” Amalthea rubbed her neck, looking from Meyrani to Mojo while avoiding to take notice of the audience.

“Wow... I mean, Rani! You're better!” Arek was back on his feet, caught between the urge to fall around her neck, and a sudden hunch that it was maybe a better idea to stay out of reach of any turian present. He cast a sideway glance at Mojo, half expecting him to launch forward and tear Meyrani apart. He noticed the twitching mandibles of the turian's face. This... wasn't a smile, was it? It was sometimes so difficult to tell for him if a turian was amused, or baring his teeth.

“Good, I finally know who I'm dealing with.” He wiped the underside of his jaw with the back of his hand and looked at the two drops of smeared blood. “Keep it up, kid.”

Arek and Amalthea tensed, ready to go between the two turian when Mojo set in motion. To their surprise, all he did was giving Meyrani a slap on her shoulder as he walked past her on his way out.

“Uh, do I have to be scared of both of you now?” Arek tried to muster up a chuckle and feared it sounded rather weak, fitting how cold his face felt.

“I wish anybody of you was scared of me,” Amalthea sighed before Meyrani could answer. “I know, I'm new to this kind of authority, but could you guys please, please stop attacking and provoking each other? Even if it's hard? I neither want to explain to Crusher nor to Hackett that my squad stabbed each other to death only hours after I was put in charge.”

“Can't I blame the alcohol, and Rani her painkillers?” He picked up the crutch and handed it to the turian woman, freeing her from the strain to balance on her one good leg. “I'm sure they filled her up with drugs so she could even stand!”

“Not funny, Arek.” Almathea let herself fall onto the free spot on the couch. “What are you looking at? The show's over!” she snapped, and the people surrounding the small group took a step back. “Somebody get me a drink, NOW!” Finally, the crowd dissolved.

“Here.” Kalron had slipped away when the commotion had reached its peak and now returned, handing Amalthea a small bottle filled with a liquid of a pale, rosy color. “Forgive me.” He smiled at Meyrani and shrugged. “I wasn't sure what you like and can digest.”

“The thought is appreciated.” She sat down next to Amalthea, inhaling sharply when her knee bent slightly. “Water has no effect on me, but would be refreshing.”

“Understood!” The drell hastened back to the bar. Arek grinned after him.

“You left quite the impression on him, and definitely on me.” He considered squeezing himself between the two women but dropped the thought. Things were uncomfortable enough for Meyrani as they were, and he wasn't sure how angry Amalthea was still with him. He looked around. Other seats close by were taken, and he wished he wasn't dizzy. The growl from his stomach was loud enough to compete with that of the brooding asari. The shockwave had been small, with low impact and reach, but the size of the back hole in his empty stomach seemed to have doubled.

“If it left an impression on Mojo I'll be forever in your debt.” Amalthea chugged down her liquor, and stretched out her arms, the muscles flexing under her shirt as she let them rest on the back of the couch. It was an unfair world. Turians were taller than most human, and Amalthea was tall for an asari, so although being of average heigh for a human man, Arek was the smallest of their squad.

And the muscular built of the valkyrie? Arek could only dream of that. He was of an athletic, defined shape, which was more than enough for his job, and it was all he could expect. He had given up on stocking up muscles years ago. As a natural biotic he was powerful enough to stand his ground, but whenever a mission allowed him to catch his breath he admired Amalthea's hand-to-hand combat skills, and with that, her strength. He wouldn't call himself envious, but if he could charge himself among the enemy forces and wreck havoc with his fists as well as with his biotics, he wouldn't complain.

“What is it, Turner?” The asari grinned at him. “In for another round of arm wrestling?”

“And enforce that bad opinion you got of me the last hour? I don't think so. Yo, thanks, Kal!”

The drell had returned with Meyrani's water, and a drink for Arek, and another for Amalthea. “Hey, that's just water!” Arek protested after taking a sip.

“If you'd kissed him I'd have brought you champagne.” Kalron crackled at the sight of Arek's wide eyes and wrinkled nose. “I'm sorry, my friend, but if you knew the odds you'd have been tempted, too.”

“I don't think I want to know. Wait! Didn't you say before-”

“I lied,” Kalron replied with a sly grin Arek hadn't believed to ever see in the kind drell's face.

“And I don't want to hear about any of that,” Amalthea interrupted. “You, what was your name again, Kalron? Can you do me a favor? Stick around Arek a little while longer this evening and keep an eye on him. If he runs into Mojo again, drag him to the other end of the ship.”

“That goes a bit too far, Thea. Don't get me wrong, Kal, you're a good friend to have a round, but I don't need a babysitter! I was just a little tipsy, and yeah, I provoked him, but he started it, and-”

“I ended it, my highlight of the day when I thought it couldn't get any worse.”

“Thea, I'm sorry. Today sucked for all of us, and I swear, it won't happen again.” At least not like this. If he didn't get too close to Mojo the next time they argued so he couldn't be grabbed, and wouldn't have to counter-attack.

“I hope so.” She sat up, her voice suddenly tired. “Arek, as a friend, I understand you. Goddess, he's such a damn jerk, and I can tell you, I wanted to tear him to pieces 17 times this week, I counted. But... you know... being an asshole isn't a crime, and they put him on this squad, and now it's our job to get this thing to work. And you're not helping. What is it about him, Arek? You usually don't give a damn about what people say or think about you.”

“Good question.” He'd pay money for an answer.

Others had made fun of him before. Well liked as he was, and as easily he made friends, there had always been people who looked down on him. Because he was a biotic, or a human, or a redhead. Some sneered at him because he was 'easy', or just for the fact that others enjoyed his company anyway. Yeah, jealousy was an ugly thing, as his mother used to comfort him when he was young, and if people rather boiled in their own jealousy than having fun with him – their problem. But good God, if that damn turian had perfected a skill, then it was pushing Arek's buttons!

 

“Wish I had an answer.” He shrugged. “Day one, he didn't give a damn about me. Day two, I only needed to breathe and he'd mock me for that. We're specialists in different fields, so rivalry can't be it. Thought he's jealous because people love me and don't like him, but eh, I think he prefers it this way.” _Although how anyone would prefer being like this is beyond me, but everyone to their own. As long as I'm left alone._

“He just has it in for me, for no reason, and I guess that pisses me off! Might as well give him a reason. But I won't do it again, promised!” He crossed himself, spilling his water over his shirt.

“Is that a human thing? Sealing a promise by wasting water?” Meyrani eyed him with mild curiosity. “Or doesn't the kind of liquid matter?”

“Not really, it's... complicated. Pretend it never happened, okay? Are you staring at my chest?” He pulled his shirt until it stretched tightly over his skin. “Trying to make that Salarian of yours jealous?”

“Sorry, Arek, mind beats matter anytime.” Her mandibles moved and bared her teeth, which Arek didn't doubt to be a turian smirk.

“Back to topic, all right? First off, Kalron, be a buddy and get me another.” Amalthea waved the empty bottle. The drell bowed, took it from her and hurried to follow her request. She leaned back in her seat and grinned at Arek.

“If you and Mojo shared a bit of his attitude my life would be heaven.”

“He has a soft spot for strong women. Would you really want me and Mojo to fall for-”

“I'd rather mate with a thresher maw than hearing you finish that thought! Thanks, Kalron.” She took the drink and rose her bottle to the smiling drell. “Back to business. You can prove your resolve sooner than you think, Arek. Commander Crusher got the order to pick up some high brass as soon as the third squad is back, and he's sending us.”

“Sweet! Sounds like something even Mojo will have a hard time to fuck up. Where are we going?”

“Omega. If you want to grab a bite and catch some sleep you better hurry. We'll arrive in five hours.”

 


	4. Faces of Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega is exciting, it's different, it's playing after its own rules. Arek better hurries and gets used to it - there's an incoming call that doesn't leave much room for mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who kept reading so far! I don't have a beta, and that you put up with this fact so far means a lot! Thank you!
> 
> That aside: Finally, [the artwork for Amalthea is up, look at this great babe!](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/131024079818/last-but-definitely-not-least-this-force-of). Thank you, BK, for doing this ♥

Smoke hovering between the ceiling and the heads beneath created an illusion of a cloud-covered sky. The air was thick with voices – batarian, volus, turian, krogan, and even vorcha. Only a few humans added to the stream of chatter that pulsated through the veins of Omega.

Arek strolled through the market of the commercial district. He inhaled deeply the scent coming from a stand offering grilled meat of an animal he had never heard off. Four steps further, his growling stomach turned at the stench of trash and waste. If there was more rotting than the garbage from a food stand, then he didn't want to know.

He was still wearing his casual outfit, the short now wrinkled after a two hours nap and blended with the crowd with ease. Armor showing insignia of the Alliance would have drawn unwanted attention to a squad that was supposed to smuggle a human general from Omega back to their shuttle.

Arek stopped at a store front, reading “Omega Market” on the neon sign. A batarian vendor cast him a dark glare, but didn't deem the human's presence worth of more than that; he continued to bargain with a krogan customer while Arek browsed the goods with great interest.

When they were told they were two hours early after their arrival Arek had been irritated. He was tired from his lack of sleep, and sitting in a close space right across that damned turian hadn't brightened his mood.

However, walking the streets of Omega on his own proved to be not the worst way to spend his time.

He picked up a heavy pistol, admiring the sleek design and the sturdy, silver, and black frame. For its type of weapon, it was surprisingly light, and it rested well in his hand.

“Pay, or put it down, human!” The batarian took the weapon from him and put it back on display.

“What can you tell me about it?” Most of the time he relied on his biotic skills, for the rest he had his SMG. But an additional pistol, for emergency cases, sure wouldn't hurt, and, at least as importantly, this little baby looked good on him.

“The acolyte? Asari manufactured, which should give you an idea about its power. Strips down shields like nothing else. Worth the time it takes to recharge if you know what you're aiming at.”

“Sweet.” Arek whistled through his teeth, reaching for the weapon again, but pulled back his hand when the batarian cleared his throat. Good, the guy didn't seem too eager to make business with him, which meant only one thing: Arek now wanted the weapon more than anything else. He tried to remember his remaining credits for this month. Damn, he should have asked Meyrani to come with him, she sure would have lent him the rest. Well, time to start bargaining; cornering the salesman with sharp questions should do the trick.

“Haven't seen one before. Are they legal?”

“Depends on who you're working for,” the vendor shot back, his four eyes staring at him with suspicion. “Word of advice, human. If this is a concern of yours, you better catch a shuttle and get your ass off of Omega.”

“No, no. All fine, but thanks for the advice anyway.” That went far from well. The last thing he needed was another reason for Thea to bite of his head because word travelled about a human behaving suspiciously. He decided to give up on bargaining, but not on the acolyte yet.

“What's the price for this baby?”

The batarian named the number and walked away. The look of defeat in Arek's face said all about a failed business he needed to know to not waste more of his time with this human.

Arek still stared at the weapon. Maybe, if he tried to save some of his pay, he should be able to afford it – in three or four months. If no spontaneous parties or other tempting ways to throw out his credits came his way. Three months... would he still be alive then? Would this store still exist? Was there a point of saving only one credit when a reaper might turn him into charcoal tomorrow?

He sighed goodbye to the pistol, and turned around, smashing his face against a hard back.

 

“Not you of all possible people...” he groaned when the turian turned around.

“A plague is less difficult to get rid of than you,” was the sharp retort.

“Hey, no fighting in front of my-” The batarian stopped in the middle of his rant, and his frown broke into a smile. “Mojo! Is that you? I thought you left Omega for good! Dead or alive, the rumours never found an agreement on that detail.”

“Marsh. Still selling scrap metal for a living, I see.” Mojo pushed Arek out of his way and shook the offered hand.

“Don't you dare to insult my store! Tell you something.” Marsh leant over the counter and pointed at a salarian. He seemed still young, and inspected a shotgun with a look so earnest that it was obvious he had never held a gun before.

“Folks don't show it, but half of everyone is crazy to get their hands on a good gun. The other half is crazy to get rid of their good guns before the galaxy crumbles, after keeping the real things for themselves for so long. Now, give me your Viper already, and lets see what I can do for her!”

Forgotten – or ignored – by his squadmate and the vendor, Arek stood behind the turian, staring at his wide shoulders. This was Mojo, all right, but actually bantering with the batarian. Who apparently had known him for a while, and was still willing to speak with him.

He was chewing on his tongue, dying to make a snippy remark. The reasonable part of his mind warned him to shut up and walk away... since when did his conscience speak with the voice of Amalthea?

And anyway, this pest was from Omega? Interesting, yet, it was easy to imagine this rude idiot as a merc. His battle armor was black with dark red highlights, a lot the shirt he was wearing – a brownish red with black lines. Was it a hint, pointing at the Blood Pack? Or had it been red sand? Assassination? Weapon smuggling? Or even human trafficking? None of this would surprise him, and he wondered how Mojo managed to be assigned to a squad under the command of the Alliance. The _why_ was interesting, too.

 _Being an asshole isn't a crime._ Thea had been right, but who said that Mojo was just an asshole? Arek had reached a point where he'd expect him to side with the reapers, for no other reason than being a jerk.

 

A faint vibration around his arm woke him up from is musing. He activated his omni-tool and accepted the call.

“Thea? Everything good?”

“You guys hear me? Can I speak freely?”

He looked around. The market was crowded, and each stall in sight was occupied by at least three or for costumers. Nothing that could be called a quiet spot, except...

“Give me a second.” _Goodbye, breath._ He fell into a moderate pace, steering his steps away from the batarian's store as indifferent as he could be, and towards the alley close to the food stall from before. Before he could slip into the dark corner he collided with Mojo.

“God, just stop stalking me, you ugly idiot!”

“Surprise, you're not the centre of the universe. What do you want?” the turian growled at his omni-tool.

“Listen, you two. We have a situation.” The asari was keeping her voice low. Arek heard somebody whisper, and judging from the steady noise in the background, Amalthea was trying to keep the conversation away from the ears of the crowd as well.

“Are you in trouble? Where are you? I'll be getting there!”

“Shut up and listen. Meyrani intercepted a distress call that was sent to what they call a 'police office' here. You're both there, right? Meyrani, take over.”

“It's a hostage situation. I don't have all the detail yet, but here's what I deciphered so far!” Meyrani didn't bother with keeping her voice down. It took a sharp warning from Amalthea for her to lower her excitement to a whisper as she spoke on, “Major Kabale, leader of one of the political human parties on Citadel, stepped on a few toes. A ship on its way to Sanctuary had Kabale's family on board. It was high-jacked, the family kidnapped, and traces lead to Omega. I still have to figured out the demands, but from what I've heard, if the Major doesn't budge soon, his family will be killed.”

“Holy shit. What do we do now? Is there anything we can do?” Arek glared at the people walking past them. Almost everyone was carrying a weapon, and the few who didn't were probably just better at hiding them under their clothes. Who was he fooling, this was Omega, where everyone had a skeleton in their closet, and where one – citizen and visitor alike – was as suspicious as the other.

“To which group do the kidnappers belong? Are they connected to Omega?”

“No clue yet, Mojo, I'm still trying to-”

“Where is their position?” the turian interrupted her, his fingers gliding over his omni-tool.

“You should have the coordinates by now. You two aren't too far away from them.”

“Arek, Mojo, listen!” Amalthea cut into the conversation. “This isn't an official assignment, but if we could do something to resolve it... this is just the thing that could earn us some points with the commander! Maybe there's nothing we can do, but there's still time until our job starts, and if at least one of you could investigate...”

“I'm on it.”

Arek stared at Mojo, and the sudden silence from the other end of the call suggested that Amalthea and Meyrani were as surprised as him.

Mojo cut off the call, shut off the interface of his omni-tool, and hastened further down the dark alley.

“Hey, wait! Wait for me! I'm on it, too, Rani! Gonna keep an eye on him!” He ended the call and fell into a jog to keep up with the turian. The smell of decay was becoming stronger. They left the artificial light from the main street behind them, and ran deeper into the darkness.

“Where are you going?” he gasped once he caught up with Mojo.

“To the cordinates. Stop being in my way!”

“It's the other way, dumbass! If we cross the market place, and find our way into the slums, we could-”

“I'm taking a short cut.” He halted, and turned around. “To make this clear, I don't need you for this, and I don't want you to come along. Piss off, pyjak!”

Arek raised his hand, his fingers conjuring a small, bluish cloud from the air.

“To make this clear, I won't let you go and make things worse than they already are! Come! Do me the favor and try to stop me.” He waved his hand in front of the turian's face.

“Do what you want, but don't think I'll wait for you.” He slapped Arek's hand away, turned on his heel and continue his way. Arek chuckled and dashed after him.

“Are you kidding me?” He ran past Mojo, twisted around and grinned. “I'm faster than you!”

“Good for you.” The turian stopped and jumped onto a trash container. He set one foot on a dent in the wall, grabbed a loose cable, and pulled himself up. He took hold of a pipe, and from there, he climbed up the building.

“Sore loser.” Arek pressed his jaws together, and climbed on the container. He found the same spot for his foot. The cable was out of reach, and his fingers scratched over the metallic surface until he found a small ledge to grab. He stretched, and finally, his fingers clenched around the cable.

“Fuck!” His triumph ended when his foot slipped from its hold. The cable was pulled from its anchoring with Arek hanging on its end.

“Goddammit!” Dangling in the air, he looked down. Falling would hurt although a biotic field should prevent the worst, but... he didn't want to go down, he had to follow that jerk!

 _Dammit._ Mojo would never let him live down what he had to do next.

“Mojo!”

The turian had reached the roof when he was called. He looked down and – laughed.

“Stop laughing, you stupid asshole, and help me!” Arek closed his eyes, took a deep breath and added, “Please.”

Mojo stared down at him. After a moment, he shrugged, reached for the edge of the roof, about to climb the rest of the way, then he paused. He looked down again, and Arek swore, if turians were able to frown, Mojo was frowning.

“Come on! This is not about a stupid feud, but about a job!” Arek called up at him, swearing he could see the gears work behind Mojo's forehead. “Whatever's going to happen, you might need a witness!”

Mojo snorted, and his mandibles twitched. He let go of the roof and let himself slide down the pipe. His legs wrapped around it and one hand holding tight, he stretched towards the gently swinging cable.

“Grab the pipe and climb it. Hurry!” He waited until Arek clenched to the pipe, and rushed back to the roof. A minute later, he seized Arek's hand and pulled him up.

“I'll never let you live this down.”

“I know. Let's make it worth it, okay?” Arek didn't remember the last time he was so relieved to find himself standing on solid ground. Those had been crazy minutes which made one hell of a story once he was back with his friends, from his own, rather embarrassing part, to the fact that his personal nemesis helped him out of his trouble.

Mojo didn't leave him any time to laugh the situation off; with sure steps he was running until he reached the end of the building. Without hesitation he jumped, landing on top of the next roof.

Arek jumped back to his feet and hurried after him. He landed on the same spot only seconds later. The turian was quick, but Arek was indeed the faster runner. He had learned from before and now stayed behind Mojo, letting him lead the way. When the turian let himself fall flat on the roof instead of jumping over the small gap, Arek followed his example.

 

“What is it?” he whispered, crawling up to him.

“Quiet! Guards!” He pointed to the building ahead. Four guards were standing in front of the entrance. It was impossible for them to jump from roof to roof without being noticed, and if one of them looked up, they'd soon have some explaining to do.

“Gangs or police? Hey, what are you doing?”

Mojo had activated his omni-tool, his eyes following the rapid flow of letters and numbers on the screen while he was typing.

“Creating a distraction. Why don't you shut up and enjoy the view until I'm done?”

“Yeah... right...” Just because asshole no 1 saved his ass one time, he'd trust him to solve this problem, sure. There had to be a way around the guards, maybe if they returned to one of the alleys, and approached the gate from the other side... He rolled around and crawled towards the edge to his right.

“Wow...!” The commercial district of Omega stretched in front of his eyes.

A cluster of humans and aliens had gathered at the doors of Omega's famous as well as infamous nightclub. AFTERLIFE flickered in big, red neon letters over the building, the light show framed by artificial flames. Or were they real?

The cloud of smoke lay below Arek's position. The lights of the market were showing through it, coloring the smoke in flaring pink and red, and ominous blue and green.

From the ground, he had thought that the living containers of the slums were the highest buildings around him, but now he looked at brightly illuminated skyscrapers that reached high up into the artificial sky. What he had thought was night was revealed to be an everlasting twilight.

The voices echoing through the streets below were reduced to a faint rumble intertwining with the music coming from the Afterlife. In the distance, the drilling from the mines rolled like thunder.

“It's beautiful. Creepy, but beautiful.” He turned on his back and saw how the turian was back on his feet, taking a run to leap over the gap.

“What... wait!” Arek jumped up, quickly looking down – the guards had left their position, he caught a last glimpse of them running past the afterlife towards the shuttle parking lot.

“Okay, how the hell did you do that?” he hissed once he was running next to Mojo. He'd kick his ass for trying to leave him behind later.

“Sent them an obscured distress call, along with the coordinates leading to the Kima district.” The turian stopped and gasped for air after they had passed the border to the lower parts of the slums. The bright colors faded. Lights flickered behind dull glass, tinting the street below them in a dirty yellow.

“Wait, you hacked into their communication frequency? _You_ can do stuff like that?!”

“A human child could hack it, the so-called security here is a joke. If they'd belonged to a gang, though... Almost there!”

'Almost' turned out to be four more roofs.

The next gap was too large to risk jumping across it. Arek found that climbing down a hot steam pipe was as unpleasant as climbing up a cold water drain, but at least he didn't have to swing on a cable this time. Clawing as tightly to the pipe as he could, he climbed it down at a slow, steady pace. Mojo was waiting above him, impatiently kicking the pipe with his foot. Once Arek was back on the ground, the turian hurried down the pipe, forcing Arek to jump out of his way or he would have tackled him.

“At least you're having fun.” Grumbling to himself he followed Mojo, pulling a grimace behind the turian's back.

Arek found solace in the sound of Mojo's ragged breathing between the chuckles; the turian might be better at climbing, but the human beat him when it came to running. His little triumph did last until Mojo stopped, and pointed at another pipe.

“Up here!”

“Damn this!” How much more climbing would he have to endure for this job that wasn't even official?

 _Let's hope it will pay off in the end, Thea, or you owe me a massage!_ He stretched his back once he stepped on the rooftop, trying to loose his stiff, aching shoulders. He followed Mojo to the opposite edge. They had reached a dead end unless they returned to the ground; the next building was across what looked like a market place.

Compared to the lively, colorful market district around the Afterlife, this one stirred pity in Arek. Only a few stalls were open, and offering daily goods side by side with old guns and scrap metal. He counted no more than 20 heads, a handful of them bending over the tables in hope to strike a deal. Most were loitering, getting drunk and throwing trash at a varren pilfering a garbage can.

 

The turian was lying on his stomach. His rifle was aimed at a window across the market, his eyes were glued to the scope.

“See anything?” Arek crouched beside him, squinting at the building. He pulled his smg and zoomed in as far as it allowed, but all he saw were the silhouettes of four, maybe five people.

“Thought so. This has Murakos' handwriting all over it”

“Who the fuck is Murakos? Wait.” Arek set up and activated his omni-tool. “I think that's Rani calling. Hey, girl, any news?”

“Arek? Meyrani here! We got your position. Not bad, that was fast!”

“Thanks to... a shortcut.” This wasn't the time for minor details about their way up here, and as far as Arek was considered, there was no reason to bore anyone with them.

 _But I guess someone I know can't wait to tell the tale._ He glared at the turian, but almost broke into a grin when he saw the calm, serious face.

“Everything under control here. Judging from Mojo's expression, he's waiting for the right head to pop up to plant a bullet.”

“No, wait! We got an update!” the distant voice cried out in alarm. “The situation is safe! Sankta Fedorian is with the hostages.”

“Bullshit!” the turian snorted.

“Fedorian? That rings a bell, gimme a second...”

“Sankta is a nephew of the late primarch Fedorian.” Mojo was still focusing on what happened behind the window while he spoke. “But that's bullshit, that isn't him! There's a woman, a young girl and a child, never seen them before, but I do know that turian bastard!”

“Rani, send me a picture of that guy.”

“Done, Arek. Mojo, you hear me? It's over! The hostages are fine, they were lucky that Sankta and his crew are on shore leave for a few hours. Don't do anything stupid!”

“Listen, Kid, you don't want me to fuck up your work, now don't fuck up mine! This isn't Sankta!”

Arek crept closer and shoved his omni-tool before Mojo's face. A small, holographic figure was flickering above Arek's arm.

“Does the dude you see look like that?” Arek tipped at the white marks on the face.

“Yes, but...”

“No but! Mojo, put the rifle down! Reaper invasion or not, if you kill a member of an ex-primarch's family they will find a way to put us in front of a military court!”

“Shut up, Arek, I said that isn't Sankta!”

“Let me at least have a look!” He tore at Mojo's arm, and shoved his head behind the scope, feeling the turian's breath on his neck. He caught a glimpse of a group of four. A turian, talking with a woman and who he assumed to be her children. Grey, almost bluish face plates, with bright, white marks covering most of it.

“Sorry, Mojo, it's the same face.”

“It's the same _tattoo_ , and you're too dumb to tell one turian from the other apart!” He pushed Arek away and brought his rifle back in position. “Murakos was a blankface when he left Palaven. He had markings similar to Fedorian's tattooed on his face during his years with the Blue Suns. A few more lines of paint and the disguise is perfect! Now let me finish this!”

“Why the fuck should I trust you on this? I'm risking an innocent life here!”

“There's nothing innocent about Murakos.” Mojo was lying still, the finger twitching at the trigger. “Come on, bastard, a bit more to the right..”

Arek stared at him. His omni-tool blinked, still holding the call from Meyrani. Knowing her, she was busy searching for anything she could find on this Murakos guy.

Supposed Mojo was right. Then the major's family was still in danger. In the hands of a criminal, who happened to be a turian who looked a lot like another turian related to a dead primarch, and who copied his tattoo to be mistaken as that primarch's nephew, using the good name for criminal intentions.

Suppose he was wrong, or lying. A member of the turian military, the real nephew of Fedorian, wouldn't have had any trouble to pass the gates to the slums, and to reach the hostages before him and Mojo. He'd have the weapons, name and influence, at least more than two plain-clothed members of an Alliance squad. As a member of a family of political importance, a Fedorian probably was more informed about an incident with political motifs? Maybe that was the whole cause of that 'shore leave'?

What proof did he have, beside Mojo's word? He had learned today that the biggest asshole he knew was from Omega, and had been a part of its criminal society for who knew how long. A week would have been enough for him to piss off enough people. He could only imagine how long the list with scores to settle was, a list that might include Sankta Fedorian.

 

No, one option was as absurd as the other. Yet, he had to make a decision, right now, and it boiled down to one question:

 

Did he trust Mojo?

 

“Mojo, no!” He threw himself on top of the turian the moment Mojo pulled the trigger. The viper jerked to the side. Both stared after the sound that cut through the air.

“Out of sight! Fuck!” Mojo took a quick look through the scope. “Fuck it! Fuck YOU!” He jumped up, his hand aiming for Arek's throat. Arek had learned from the last time he had driven Mojo to his limits and dodged the attack with a jump to the side.

“I can't let you kill an innocent guy!” Arek yelled.

“You idiot! I told you he isn't a Fedorian! I told you!” He lifted the viper, and for a moment Arek feared he would smash it into Arek's face.

_Try it! I have a shockwave with your name on it waiting for you!_

“I've worked long enough in this dump! I've known this guy for years and he has always been trouble! Ambitious trouble! Now there's a hole in the wall instead of his head because you're a damn idiot!” Mojo shouted, shaking with rage. He took a step towards Arek when another call came in.

“What?” Arek answered it, not leaving the turian out of sight.

“We intercepted a call from Kabale's wife just a few seconds ago!” Amalthea's voice thundered through. “She begged for help! Hurry! It wasn't Sankta who was with them, Mojo was right, and the room is rigged with...”

A deafening explosion silenced her.

Startled, Arek staggered backwards, his foot stepping on air. A hand seized him by his arm and hurled him onto the roof. Screams and shouts for help coming from the market reached his ears. More and more people filled the street, drawn out of their houses by the noise and the smell of fire. Arek recovered his balance. Mojo was standing at the edge of the roof, staring at the flames shooting out of the window across the street.

 

“Mojo, I...” He stared at the fire, running his hands through his hair. The stench of burnt chemicals crept through the air and into his nose.

“I could have saved them. But because  _you_ didn’t... Fuck it!” Mojo turned around and walked past Arek, throwing his rifle to the ground.


	5. One High Horse is Dead...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... it burnt to death. Now get moving, Arek, you know what they say: A fault confessed is half redressed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy about the views, I'm happy about the kudos, and I'm happy about the comments. Thank you! ♥

He reached the end of the building and disappeared. The world in front of him was dark, behind him, it was illuminated by an absurd, warm glow. Arek wanted to follow him, but the screams from across his roof drew him back. What good would following him have done anyway. There was not much he could say. No, there was exactly one thing he wanted to say, but right now, it sounded weak and shallow, even to himself.

A step away from falling, he watched the fire. In its hunger, the flames were working their way through the upper floors. The stench of molten plastics was growing stronger, and the black clouds of smoke seemed to belong to the thunderous drilling in the distance. The air shimmered from the heat, the thin metal walls were dented, sucked inside by a sudden vacuum when the air inside the building was consumed by the greedy fire.

Whatever Murakos had used to cause it made sure that his victims didn't have a chance to survive. Arek's stomach turned into a knot, and a bile taste rose up his throat; he thought he smelled burning flesh, but his mind fought to shut the fear down. He stood too far away, he could feel the heat, but the smell had to be his imagination. Too much space between them, too far away to smell anything, or to do anything to help them. He didn't have a chance, nor did he have the time.

He tore away from the sight, stepping back from the edge of the roof. If he only...

He picked up the rifle.

“Wow, you're heavy for a viper, aren't you?” He stroke over the metal frame. It had lost most of its shine, the surface was dull and covered with scratches. Sighing, he sat down, letting the weapon rest on his lap. He reopened the channel on his omni-tool.

 

“Amalthea?”

“Arek! Are you all right? There was that explosion when we were cut off, are you two safe? What happened?”

Arek smiled. There was nothing left of the secrecy in the asari's voice, whatever district she was in was now listening, if they wanted or not 

“It's... it's so good to hear your voice.” He swallowed hard, the already faint smile twitching. “We're okay... no, Thea, nothing is okay. I mean, we aren't hurt, but...”

 “Arek, listen to me!” Meyrani took over. Which was good, she had her voice under control. _Very good, Rani. At least one of us can keep a cool head._

 “Always, dear, I'll always listen to you.”

 “Arek, I didn't have the time to dig deep enough, but what I found out about Murakos is ugly enough. If we knew earlier, and had sent you sooner... He's ruthless, dangerous, and knows what he's doing. What happened isn't your fault, you weren't even supposed to be there. Arek? Do you hear me?”

 “I hear you, but you're wrong, Rani.” He patted the rifle. As his fingers glided over the frame, they felt a pattern too regular for signs of use. He turned it around, having a closer look at the bottom of the rifle's stock.

  _Remember, idiot, skill always beats luck! I._ _K_ _._

I.K.? The Batarian? No, his name was different, something with M. What a weird dedication, but yet, so wonderfully fitting that it made Arek chuckle.  
  
“Arek? Hello? Arek, where's Mojo, neither Amalthea nor I seem to be able to track him!”

_Alright, ladies, time for your buddy here to make a confession._

 “Do you both hear me? The truth is, what happened is my fault. My fault alone. Mojo had the chance to kill him, and I stopped him. Maybe they'd still be alive if the shot had hit Murakos' head instead of warning him. They could live, if I...”

 “Wait, Arek, wait! What do you mean? What exactly happened, and where the fuck is Mojo?!”

 “I'm sorry, Thea. And I don't know where he is. Let me explain from the beginning.” He began his tale from the point they had reached the roof. How he and Mojo argued after Meyrani's call, and what was going on in his mind when he saw himself forced to make a decision, and how he finally made the wrong choice.

“I never thought there was anything in this world he could be worked up about, Thea,” he came to an end. “He left and... I let him go. Well, at least he now has a very good reason to hate me.” He laughed, finding more amusement in how wrong it sounded than in his words.

“Shit,” was Amalthea's response. He could hear her talk to Meyrani, but was unable to understand what they were debating. _If they kick me out of the squad I sure deserve it. But..._ Deserved or not, he didn't want to leave, not yet. He had to put some things right first.

“Arek, please be serious for once.” Almathea using a calm, almost a bit sad voice was worse than her yelling. “Do you know why you made your decision?”

“Yes. Because I let a personal matter interfere with a professional situation. Thea, I-”

“Exactly. Arek, don't get me wrong, I don't put the whole blame on you. Maybe neither of you is to blame for the escalation, we do not know if Murakos intended to let them go if he got what he wanted, Mojo's shot warning him or not. As a fact, however, both of you could have assured their safety if it weren't for your personal feud. That's the blame you both have to share.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. And I really have to apologize to him, and have no clue where he is. In a few minutes, I lost a squad member and the lives of three innocent people.” If not more. He prayed to whoever was in charge that the building had been empty when the fire broke out, and that he'd only have to load his conscience with turning innocent people homeless.

“Thea, what do I do now? I don't have any clue where to search, and time's running. I'm out of ideas.” For all his biotic powers, is usually quick wit and feet, and stubborn willpower, he had lost. He hadn't been aware how bitter defeat could taste.

“Meyrani and I agreed that the two of us are quite capable to guide a general across the street and into our shuttle. As your leader, I have an order for you: You will investigate what led to the death of Kabale's family, and find out what you can about this Murakos. That's what I'll report once we're back. A shuttle will come and get you once you're done.

Of course,” she continued with a grim chuckle, “finding Mojo and talk about what happened, and what he knows about that guy counts, even if I didn't conclude that detail in my report. Do you understand me, Arek?”

“I understand. Thank you, Thea. I won't disappoint you... again.” He cut off the connection. The interface flickered away. Amalthea's and Meyrani's voices were gone, and here he was, sitting alone on a roof, chaos and murder behind his back. Hours seemed to have passed on this space station that was so strange to him, yet the night would never come, and no morning would follow. He raised his eyes to the sky. It had been years since he had watched the natural course of a day, twilight bleeding into the night, a morning washing away the darkness. If he had a wish free, he'd ask for a few days on earth, a vacation in his home town.

 _Come on, Arek. This is meaningless. You can't run away, you don't even know if there's still a Glasgow to run to._ Of course there was! And one day, he'd go home and spend a few days doing nothing but lying on a green meadow, with a drink by his side, and watching the mist creep over the grass before the sun touched the world. A real sun on a real sky.

He'd keep the thought in mind, for later, but first things first. A war had to be settled, and then there were those reapers who had to be defeated, too, but neither would happen if he continued to be sorry for himself.

The rifle in his hand, he stood up. All he needed now was a lead, and a safe way down from this damn roof.

 

*

 

 _Busy. Loud. Colorful. Like nothing had happened at all._ Travelling through space had changed the concepts of words like 'ground breaking' or 'shattering' for Arek. An asteroid collides with a space station, a few hundred souls burnt in a planet's atmosphere to dust in the morning? Nothing but a status report for the other end of the same system. By noon, he'd be two systems away, and the greatest worry would be a thresher maw threatening a colony's water supply.

Cosmos, micro cosmos, in the end, everybody worried about their own world.

Yet, it was unfair. He felt sick on his stomach when he thought about the screams, about the dead, and the soon homeless while they watched the fire claiming their home. The same district, the own neighborhood, couldn't care less.

Could anything jar the market place's soul? Maybe it was its strength, the self-preserving essence of a life living by its own rules Why care as long as it lived?The raunchy yet oddly beautiful atmosphere had changed, or maybe he hadn't noticed it before – a relentless cruelty that lurked behind every corner, in every eye, ready to strike when life was at stake.

Arek shivered. That was too much philosophy for his brain right now. Besides, he had reached his destination.

 

“Marsh, wasn't it?” He put on a wide grin, waving at the Batarian, but waited for an amiable greeting in vain. The vendor ignored him. Unperturbed, Arek walked straight up to the stall, and leaned on the counter.

“I need your help.”

“I need people with credits. As we both can't expect what we need from each other, why not get your human ass away from here?” Marsh picked up what looked like a high caliber barrel for shotguns, and thoroughly cleaned it with a rag. He put it back, and inspected a pile of thin metal slates. He glanced at Arek, and continued with sorting the slates by their sizes.

A volus showed interest in a collection of spare parts, and threw himself into bargaining before Marsh had finished his friendly 'hallo'. Words were exchanged quickly, and satisfied in his belief to have struck a bargain, the customer left.

Marsh filled the empty space with a used, but perfectly in shape pistol. A carnifex, if Arek wasn't mistaken. He smiled, nodding approvingly when the batarian scowled at him.Marsh turned away from him, and focused on his collection of weapon mods once more.

“Alright, alright!” After cleaning over the parts a second time he stuffed the rag behind his belt. He stomped to Arek, and slammed his fists on the counter. “I make you an offer: I let you ask a question, and in return, you finally leave my store alone!”

“How about I leave your store alone after you _answered_ my question?” Arek grinned, trying his best to keep down a chuckle at the batarian's exasperated snort.

“You heard my offer, take it or leave it!”

“Please, you're a businessman, bargaining is a part of the job.”

“Yes,” the batarian shot back, pointing at a passing elcor who eyed his store front with mild interest. “For paying customers, not for hairless pyjaks without a credit to their name.”

“Apes, we descent from... nevermind.” Sidetracking into science fields he had no clue about wouldn't bring him any further. He decided to come to the point, “Marsh, it's about Mojo. You know him, don't you?”

“Mojo? That damn son of a bitch.” The vendor's pose eased, he even smiled when he picked up a barrel extension. “After all these years he still won't let me have a look at his viper. So stubborn, you'd think his mother's a krogan.”

“Don't I know it,” Arek sighed. He'd go a step further and say that krogans were easier to handle. At least they were straightforward in their appreciation as well as in their aggression. _Don't give them a reason, and they don't give you a cranial fracture. Easy as that._

“So you've known him for a while. Sure you can tell me where he'd hang out if he, well, doesn't really feel like company?”

“You mean, if he has another grudge against the rest of the world?”

“Exactly!” This guy seemed to know the turian quite well, and for a second, Arek was willing to believe that the role model of a jerk really had a friend in this galaxy.

“You've got some nerve, human.” Marsh laughed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. With his back stretched to his full size, he was more than a head taller than Arek. “So you pissed him off, yes? No, don't say anything, your face tells me enough. Why am I not surprised.” He shook his head, and returned to inspecting his goods. “Annoying little human. Why should I rat out a good customer to a pest like you?”

“You think I want to harm him?!” _Please, I'm the one who's one of the good guys here! I wasn't the one who let down his team mission for mission, and laughed at them afterwards!_

“I think he doesn't care for your company. And he's not the only one, you understand? Why do you humans always think the galaxy will jump because you bark?”

“I get it, I'll leave you alone, but I'd really be grateful if you helped me find him! It's kinda important.” He put the rifle on the counter. “Maybe he doesn't want to see me, I'm sure he wants his viper back.”

“What the... He went without her? That sounds like a story worth telling.” His four eyes recognized the weapon at once, looking over it with mild curiosity.

“Not really, to be honest.” With a sigh, he turned the viper around and showed him the inscription. “See, it's really his. I guess you know who I.K. is?”

“I pride myself to have made business with every merc of a higher rank, and of course with the best freelancers!” Marsh patted himself on his chest, a proud smirk coming with his serious nod.

“Kader was one of them. Decent, for a human. He knew the worth of a good gun when he saw it. He also was a regular for spare parts.”

“Was? So he's dead?” A human that got along with this batarian, and with Mojo? This Kader either was a super hero, or a super villain, either way, he had to be an interesting guy. Or maybe just a crazy masochist.

“Who knows. He left Omega a few years ago, never heard of him again. Probably went to hell, and I thought Mojo followed him. I was surprised to see him again.” There was a tone of relief and appreciation in his voice which Arek found hard to take serious, considering that he had wished Mojo to hell more than once over the last few weeks, daily.

“From what I know, he joined the turian special unit. Armygear Legion, or something.”

“Armiger Legion. So the rumours were true after all. He joined the lawful side.” The disappointment dripped heavy from his words as he looked down at the rifle.

“I'm sure it was in name only,” Arek comforted him, unable to picture the turian as a heroic fighter for law and justice.

“I promise you that he tries his best to make my, our, life a living hell.” Arek wished the delighted smile in Marsh's face at his words would surprise him. “You know, he tried to strangle me, just a few hours ago. Here.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing his throat. “See the marks?” Now the batarian grinned. Arek, however, only felt tired.

“Good. Glad to see he's still sane in his head.”

“Yeah, sure.” _His_ head began to ache. This was getting nowhere, and he was certainly not getting one step closer to find Mojo.

“Marsh, any idea where I can find him? I swear I'm not going to shoot him with his own rifle.” He lifted the rifle. He tried to prop its stock against his shoulder the way he had seen Mojo do it. He clenched his hand around the grip, uncertain for a moment where he should place his other hand. No, no, they felt too close to his chest, which made it hard to balance that damn large gun. That couldn't be right, held this way his arms would be numb before he found a target through the scope, let alone before he fired the first shot. Blushing when the batarian chuckled, he put it down again.

“Guess he'd kick me to the ground before I figured how to aim with that damn thing.” He'd stick with shockwaves and, if necessary, his smg, that was for sure. At least his inapt performance had put Marsh in a better mood, so he didn't make a fool of himself in vain.

“The former ExoGeni building, Kenzo district.” He pointed behind him, over his shoulder, roughly in the direction where Arek remembered the shuttle service to be. “Has been occupied by beggars and crooks for years. Try the roof. He and Kader used to hang out there.”

“Thanks, Marsh. I swear you'll never see me again.” Finally, but – roof? So another climbing exercise was lying ahead for him. He grabbed the viper and turned on his heel. Kenzo district, the shuttle service should be able to help him with that. There was only one last thing.

“This Kader guy and Mojo, what were they exactly, to each other, I mean?”

“Partners. And now get lost, I've got work to do!”


	6. Pride and Prejudice in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the beginning of a great friendship! Not even of a moderate friendship! No, never ever! As if a conversation and not slitting each others throat means anything, ridiculous!

There he was.

Arek swung one leg over the edge, pulled himself up, and rolled onto the roof. Lying on his back for a moment, he stared into the fake sky. The elevator to the roof had been broken years ago, the emergency stairway collapsed. Being forced to climb two floors to finally reach the roof had taken its toll – the muscles in his shoulders were burning, his legs were numb.

 _I won't climb as much as a mole hill ever again for the rest of my life!_ He wiped the sweat from his forehead and staggered back to his feet. He shoved the bag holding the sniper rifle back on his shoulder and walked to the other end of the roof.

 

“Mojo.”

The turian was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a ventilation shaft. Legs stretched, arms crossed, he stared past Arek into the distance.

“Not much of a climber, are you.” Mojo's voice lacked its aloof snark, and while the greeting wasn't cordial, Arek found it easier to stomach than the usual 'fuck off' or 'get out of my sight, idiot'.

“Not my favorite pastime, true,” he admitted, his mouth twitching as he wasn't sure if a smile was the right thing in this situation.

“Astonishing. For a species originating from apes.”

Arek opened his mouth, ready to launch a retort, but then he decided to drop it.

“You know, you got a point. But hey, despite that, here I am.” He opened his arms, tilted his head and allowed himself a light grin.

 _After asking my way like a tourist, being laughed at, and threatened to be skinned alive and being sold to a slaver if I don't stop snooping around when I searched_ _in vain_ _for the freaking elevator or stairs up here._ Of course Mojo wasn't thrilled to see him, and a word of appreciation was the last thing he expected – or really wanted – from that guy, but... still.

 

“That you are.” Mojo's head jerked up, and finally, he looked at the human. “You might as well go ahead and say whatever you have to say and be done with it.”

“Uh, yeah, guess you're right.” _Stop staring, man!_ Arek ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head.

“Well,” he began, bouncing on his toes. “I'm here to apologize. I'm sorry. People died because I was wrong, if I listened to you they'd still be alive.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah, what else do you want? Me dropping on my knees in front of you?” He pushed his restless hands into the pockets of his pants, forcing his feet to stand still. How anybody could read anything from a turian's face was beyond him, and as he wasn't in the mood of facing Mojo's contempt he avoided looking at his eyes.

“No,” Mojo snarled, baring his teeth. “Sure you aren't holding back another lecture? How everything's my fault, that I didn't save them when I could, that I'm to blame when nobody listens to me. That people died because nobody listens or trusts my word no matter how right I was.” He broke off, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh.

“Well, how do I put that...” Arek's foot scratched over the ground, rolling a small piece of scrap metal under his sole. If he thought back, he couldn't think of a day when pleasantries and polite words had worked with this guy. He might as well try the truth.

“You're an asshole, you suck at teamwork, and I'd rather prefer the company of a rabid varren than yours.” He saw the turian's mandibles moving, but that could mean anything, from a smile to a warning, so he might as well ignore it.

“But... for a moment I took you for a blood thirsty killer. Somehow, I decided to think the worst of you, that you're capable of everything bad, because I don't like you. I mean, you're giving me enough reasons to dislike you but, well. A family is dead because I let my personal problems with you influence a professional decision. And I'm sorry for that. That's it. I guess.” He took a step back, crossing his arms as well. Watching Mojo's face, hoping he might for once be able to decipher the turian's facial expressions, he waited for a reaction.

Air streaming from the vents created an illusion of a weak breeze. Arek's shirt clenched to his back, still slightly sweaty from the strenuous climb, and a chill crept down his spine. Standing still, he felt the pain in his shoulders, and a muscle in his left leg ached from a sudden cramp. Another minute of silence passed.

“I'm sorry they died, too,” Mojo finally spoke, tilting his head back and staring at the sky. “Believe it or not, but I don't enjoy civilians die in front of my eyes either. Crooks, goons, people with military or any kind of training that should know better, fine by me. But children? Men or women who never held a weapon? I hate that.”

“I see.” Arek couldn't help but smile, it was nice to hear Mojo sneer about something he actually agreed with. “I'm sorry I misjudged you.”

“I misjudged you as well.” The turian shrugged. Arek assumed that was the closest of a genuine apology he could expect; he guessed that this alone demanded some effort from Mojo, and he appreciated it.

“I thought fist thing you'd do when our paths cross is bathing in your triumph, enjoying every second you could rub in how I'm responsible for what happened.”

“What?! You're kidding! I have my faults, but I'm not anything like that!” Suddenly, a new idea occurred Arek. He had made his own picture of Mojo, and it wasn't very pretty, colored with a decent amount of assumptions. He'd never taken into consideration that things went both ways, and that someone assumed things about him as the truth that were neither true nor pretty.

“I said I misjudged you,” Mojo repeated after a pause.

“Same.” After all, this was close to a normal conversation. Maybe...

“Not as much as you think, trust me on that.” Mojo chuckled and Arek caught an amused spark in the turian's green eyes. “I know I'm a jerk, and I have no intention of changing anything about that if that's what you're hoping now. I know people like you don't understand it, but I am at ease with myself.”

“Don't worry, I can't imagine you being anything else but a jerk.” He saw no benefits of admitting that Mojo had been spot on – Arek had hoped against hope, for a short moment, that Mojo would finally become... what exactly? Normal? Agreeable? A considerate and friendly member of their squad? Well, that thought would have been amusing indeed, if the price others had to pay for them standing here like this hadn't been so high.

“But still, shit went down, and as a matter of fact you aren't happy with that.”

“And we both have our share in this, I got that. I learned the same lesson. Whatever I think of you, and the other two, it was a mistake to let that interfere with my work. Don't get any ideas,” he added when Arek smiled. “This is not the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”

“Don't _you_ worry, 'wonderful' isn't a word that comes to my mind when it's about you. Ah, almost forgot!” Arek rolled his eyes, let the bag slide from his shoulder and pulled out the rifle. “If I'm not mistaken this belongs to you.” He thought he saw the plates above Mojo's eyes moving when he handed him the rifle, almost as though he raised his eyebrows in surprise – if he had eyebrows.

“Thank you.” He turned the viper, stroking over the frame. Giving a nod, he lifted it, taking a look through the scope, and nodded again. “Praise the Spirits, everything's good. I'm sorry.”

It was Arek's turn to look at him in surprise when Mojo gently apologised to a gun. Arek appreciated weapons as a helpful tool once in a while, he understood that a good gun could make the only difference between life and death for those who didn't rely on biotic skills. Of course a reliable weapon was a valued, respected companion for many soldiers, he had met others who claimed a good gun was the most faithful partner a soldier could have, that wasn't what surprised him.

It was the absurdity to see this guy, who either wasn't able to deal with others or didn't want to, treating an object with tender affection.

 

“Can I ask you something?” There had been something on his mind since his talk with the batarian, and now, as he was watching the turian with his Viper, it was burning on his tongue.

“Ask whatever you want.”

 _But don't expect an answer if the question doesn't please the great Mojo, I get it._ Tired of standing, Arek sat down, sighing with relief when the muscles in his legs relaxed.

“There's this engraving, from I.K. Marsh, you know, that batarian from the Omega Market, mentioned a guy named Kader. Mind me asking who he is?” He held his breath, expecting to be snarled at, that he should mind his own business and finally hit the road.

“A friend. Why?”

“Nothing!” He raised up his hands, defending himself from the suspicion the seemingly harmless question carried.

“Just curious.” That, and nothing more.

“Curious if an asshole like me really has a friend who tinkered with his trusty weapon, right?”

“Well...” _This... was a smirk, right? Sarcasm or not?_

“Arek Turner, I don't tell you this because I need to prove anything to someone like you, or because I enjoy talking with you.” Mojo put the rifle down on his lap, his hands resting on it as though he had resolved to protect it. He gazed at the weapon, his face moved slightly by what Arek now believed was a smile.

“Ibrahim Kader. A smart son of a bitch. Met him during an assignment here on Omega, a few years ago. We hated each other right from the start,” he chuckled, one of his two long fingers tapping at the engraved letters.

“But turned out he was quite alright, for the arrogant human he was – is. Figured he had all the reasons to be full of himself. He knows how to wield a gun, has a gift for handling machines and computers, and of course, modifying weapons. He enforced the Viper's frame. Now she won't break when she has to use blunt force.

And no, I'm not going to tell you the story behind _that_. It's about him now, not me.” He gave an impatient growl, and Arek closed his mouth before he had said anything. Mojo nodded, and continued,

“He's down to the point. Clear head, clear goals, no playing games. Can't disrespect a guy like that, and he respects that I'm a jerk and had no intention to change that. Once we sorted that out, it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Happy End.”

“What's he doing now?” Arek dared to ask after a small pause.

“No idea. Next question.” Mojo focused his attention on the Viper's thermal clip. He gave it a slap, and closer inspected it when the weapon ejected it.

“But if you're friends, why wouldn't you-”

“He also knew when to shut up and give a man a break.” He put the clip back into its slot, listening to it clicking into its place.

“Okay, okay, I got it.” _Sensitive topic, eh? Damn, now I'm more curious about that guy than before._ Not curious enough however to press the matter and to risk irritating the turian. This was the first time they actually talked, and compared to any previous exchange between them, this conversation was almost civil. The hostile tension between them was still there, but it had lost its aggressive edge.

“Thanks for telling me that much, I appreciate that.” _It almost makes you human... turian... you get the idea._

“Didn't do that for you, remember? Told you, Ibrahim has every reason to be proud of himself, and damn, he is some vain bastard. He loves it when others talk about him.”

“Mojo, do not fear!” A wide grin on his face, Arek put his right hand on his heart and held his left up with crossed fingers. “I swear, at no point I assumed that you wanted to enjoy a friendly chat with me.”

“I knew I should have given your impressively sharp mind a bit more credit.” There it was again, the usual sarcasm that Mojo liked to use when he didn't flatly call Arek an idiot or dumbass.

“Very funny.” He pulled up the bag and fished for two beverage cans. “And here I thought I was smart when I assumed we could both need a drink after all that climbing. And after what happened. Catch!” He tossed one of the cans, and the turian caught it in the air.

“If it means so much to you, fine – that wasn't the worst idea you had today. Satisfied?” Mojo screwed the lid from the can and flipped it to the ground.

“Satisfied. Let's see this as the beginning of not fucking things up as much as before, is that good for you?”

“Good enough.” Mojo took a generous gulp, and, to Arek's horror, broke into a violent cough attack. “Fuck, what is this?” he croaked, holding the can in a trembling hand.

“Beer, it's just... Fuck! FUCK!” Arek jumped to his feet, and leaped towards the turian, seizing him by his shoulders. “I forgot! Goddammit! Mojo! I'm sorry, God, I'm fucking sorry! Fuck!” Cold sweat covered his forehead when Mojo looked up at him through half-closed eyes, gasping for air.

“I didn't mean to... Fuck. I'm an idiot! Don't die on me, hear me? I gonna get help! Where's the next hospital?”

“Zeta district,” Mojo whispered faintly, his eyes rolling up.

“Wait here, I'll get a doctor!”

“No time...” He grabbed Arek by his arms, his whole body shaking. “Arek... take me there, or...” He fell silent. His hands let go of Arek, and his head dropped on his chest.

“Hang in there, okay? I'll get you there, and when all's good again, you can punch me in front of the whole crew, and have a good laugh!” _Fuck, fuck! How the hell do I get him down here... Dammit, Mojo, don't die now!_ He dragged him up by the wrist and shoved his shoulder under the turian's arm. “Damn, you're heavy...” He made a careful step, his knees shaking under his panic and Mojo's weight. How he should manage to climb down with Mojo as a load was beyond him, but he had to figure something out.

“Come on, man. That's no way to go out for a guy like you,” he hissed through his teeth as he dragged him across the roof. His back ached with every step, and a protruding hip bone was stabbing his side. “I swear, I'll get you there in time, and if that's the last thing I'll ever – Mojo?!” He stopped in his track, holding his breath, listening. Mojo was – chuckling?

 

“Asshole! You goddamn asshole!” He pushed the turian away from him, clenching his fist when Mojo was shaking with laughter, holding his sides.

“That's not funny!” That was it, enough is enough! Who did this guy think he was? This wasn't a joking matter, he would have tried to carry him down this roof, probably broken every single bone in both their bodies. If he hadn't collapsed at the try to shove this heavy, tall jerk on his back... Just imagining what a pathetic sight he would have offered... No! This wasn't funny, and the dark space would freeze over before he allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch!

“Yes! It is!” the turian was roaring as he walked back to his spot and sat down again.

“You really got me worried! I thought you were dying!” Arek followed him, but remained standing, glowering above Mojo.

“I got that, and I'm really okay with that.” Chuckling, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Better having you worried than trying to poison me.”

“I'd never do something like that! I... I just...” Arek sighed when he picked up his still unopened beer. “Thought it was a good idea and was so proud of my noble gesture that I forgot about that whole dextro-levo thing.” Defeated, he slumped to the ground, ignoring his aching body. He tore the lid from his can and gushed its contend down in one go.

“Too bad, though, it's a good brand.” Arek put the empty can down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But you are okay, are you? I mean, even if it doesn't kill you, if you need a doc after all, I'll go and drag one up here.”

“Not every mix-up means instant death, or getting sick. Most of the time it does less than nothing, might as well eat paper. Ugly reactions can happen, but they're rarer and depend on the individual, circumstances, and substance, kinda unpredictable. Often and predictable enough, however-” He picked up the open can and shoved it towards Arek.

“Levo tastes disgusting. To me, your delicious human beer tastes like rotten fish with too much sugar, liquefied.”

“Sounds horrible. I'm sorry,” Arek repeated, feeling flat out exhausted. If he had been responsible for another death... He took the second beer and let it follow the fate of the first.

“But sorry or not, your prank was still cruel.”

“Spur of the moment. You really wanted to try getting me off the roof somehow.” He snickered again, pointing at Arek. “You. Who can hardly climb a drain.”

“Yeah, yeah, just keep rubbing it in.” He pulled a face, shaking his fist in a lukewarm attempt to threaten the turian if he dared to speak on. “What's it with you and roofs anyway? You seem obsessed with them.”

“I appreciate the view.”

“The view?! Are you kidding me?” He nodded at the darkness behind Mojo. “That's even more boring to look at than you.”

“That's why I sit _here_ , smartass. Turn around.”

“If you insist.” He wasn't thrilled about standing up and turning his back to the turian, but he might as well humor him while Mojo was in this docile mood.

 

“Oh!” The market place that had impressed him when they were chasing after the coordinates was a small warm patch to his distant right. The tower of the Afterlife pierced into the sky like a thin, glowing needle. In front of him, a grey and black ocean of buildings stretched. Illuminated windows and lamps were scattered over it like a swarm of fireflies, but what caught Arek's awe was the horizon. A far away dawn ended the dusk as the lights of the dock beckoned a spaceship closer. Losing its momentum, the frigate was slowly sinking, as though it was in a trance, following the path like a moth was drawn to the flame of a candle.

Shuttles were shooting through the air, making him think of a flock of flushed birds escaping from a bird of prey.

The frigate was becoming slower to the point it seemed it didn't move at all, yet it did. He was too far away, and the noises of Omega were droning between him and the docks. So he was watching the silent spectacle, thinking of what lay behind and above – the darkness of space. An endless universe that was also moving and changing slowly, too slowly to grasp, yet it never halted. So many worlds within worlds within worlds...

By the time the spaceship had come to a hold a calm had fallen over him. If he could, he'd cling to this moment of peace, and keep on watching forever.

“Be careful, or it hypnotizes you.”

“No... I...” A push against his shoulder knocked him off his balance. Arek staggered forward, finding himself back in reality the second his gaze was torn away from the docks. His back was still hurting, he was tired, and cold. He sighed. He was about to turn around to talk to Mojo, when realized that the turian was standing next to him, staring into the distance.

So this Kader and Mojo used to be up here, during their leisure time, and watched the horizon? The same Mojo who rather bit off his tongue than saying a friendly word to him enjoyed this sight, in the company of another human. Who was his friend, and partner – in which regard exactly?

 _Not that I care for your company, buddy, but_ _when you do have friends, and like being around them, then..._ Their animosity had its amusing sides, as well as it was frustrating in its unfairness. He had firmly believed that the turian's dislike for him stemmed from one single reason – Mojo was a disagreeable asshole who hated everyone, and who was hated by everyone.Now he was forced to let go of that idea, and all it left was a stale frustration, along with an unpleasant realization.

 _What the fuck is so wrong about me? What did I do? And if I asked now, would I really want to hear an honest answer?_ He picked up his bag and shoved it back on his shoulder. It was about time they returned, before Amalthea and the others worried. Then he looked at the docks for the last time.

 

“I start to get the appeal. Omega has its magical sides.”

“Magical! Yeah!” Mojo sneered, turning himself away from the sight with an abrupt, dismissive wave of his hand.

“A cesspool of rotten morals and corruption, that's what it is. Can't wait to get off of this cursed rock.” He shoved the Viper in its holster on his back, and started his way across the roof, Arek trotting beside him.

“Way to talk for someone coming from Omega.” A smirk on his face, he looked up at the turian but withstood the urge to give him a playful nudge.

 _Too soon._ A look at Mojo's face along with the disgusted growl also hinted more at a serious punch in his guts in return of a teasing gesture. If not a punch, then at least a stomp on the tentative truce that had just begun to grow.

“I'm not _from_ Omega, I _lived_ on Omega, for a few years.”

“Oh? Then where are you from?” Arek frowned, thinking quickly. “Palaven?”

“Forget it, Turner.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, what happened doesn't mean we're friends, got it.” His knowledge about turian society didn't reach further than that they were strong at colonisation, but there it ended. He might as well drop the topic when he didn't know any colonies by name anyway. Now that he was thinking about it, what he knew about turians – and most other species for that matter – in general wasn't impressive. After all, two of his squad mates were turian, and even Mojo seemed to know more about humanity than he, Arek, was knowing about Meyrani and Mojo's origins and their worlds.

“Good. And you're following me, why?”

They had reached the end of the roof. Arek looked down and flinched. This was like staring into an abyss, what had he been thinking when he believed he could get down here, in panic, with an unconscious turian in tow?

“Uh, because we have to go back to the docks, so a shuttle can pick us up and bring us back to the Hamburg? Wait!” He took a step back and activated his omni-tool. “I'll contact Thea, that we're done here. What's wrong?” He caught the turian staring at him, the green eyes wide with surprise.

“Nothing. I just didn't expect that I still belong to the team. After what happened.” Mojo shrugged, tilted his head away, scratching his throat.

“You're an idiot. Thea, you hear me?” Arek grinned when the asari bellowed at him, demanding to know what took him so long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by [Blastedking](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/137629006166/kept-listening-to-this-song-the-whole-time-through)


	7. Rest & Recreation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the last happenings, Arek has only one goal: Sleeping. Unfortunately, welcome, unwelcome and interesting distractions interfere with his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny chapter with the important purpose of setting the course for the next destination.
> 
> That aside, I know I'm repeating myself, but it is really important to me: Thank you, everyone, for your comments, your kudos, and for coming back ♥

The shuttle had landed inside the cruiser's hangar. The door opened, but before Arek set a foot outside, the sound of solid boots stomping towards him greeted them.

“Good, you're both back! And in time!” A smile of relief brightened her scowling face, and her strong hand patted Arek's shoulder. “Crusher was getting impatient, we have to leave Omega's orbit soon to keep up with the schedule. Everything all right? Did you find out anything?”

 _Oh fuck, I knew I forgot something!_ Over all the excitement of finding Mojo, and actually having a somewhat normal conversation with him, the second half of Amalthea's order had slipped his mind. His hopes to learn more about the turian during their shuttle flight back had been dampened by Mojo's tight-lipped replies. After a while, he had ignored Arek, and pretended to be asleep. Well, that was still better than being laughed at, insulted or mocked, and Arek considered the development as an improvement. Now he felt guilty that he had almost forgotten the ugly reason that had made this development possible.

That he couldn't answer Amalthea's question after she bought him the time to sort matters out with Mojo made it worse.

“Not much,” he lied, which was bad enough, but not as bad as the thought of disappointing her. “Uh, Mojo, why don't you tell her what you know about that Murakos guy? After all, you know him from your time on Omega.” He hoped that was true, and that Mojo wouldn't say anything that gave Arek's little act away. The turian looked at him through squinted eyes, gave a snort, and turned to the asari.

“Just anecdotes, nothing that the kid hadn't figured out already, I'm sure. Where is she? I need to talk to her.”

“Meyrani? In her quarters.” The frown returned to her face, and she took a step closer towards the turian. “After all, she suffered some ugly injuries, patched up or not, Mojo. She deserves a rest.”

“Thanks.” Not wasting another moment with Arek and Amalthea, Mojo walked past her and hurried towards the elevator. The asari stared after him, her hand searching for Arek's shoulder.

“Did he just thank me?” Her fingers clenched around his shoulder, forcing Arek's knees to give in. “Hold me, Arek, I think I'm fainting!”

*

A shower. And sleep. Washing the last 24 hours off his body, and then banishing them into the realm of bad dreams, so they could be forgotten after a while. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. The elevator's doors opened, releasing Arek into the corridors of the crew's quarters.

Action was all good and fine, the more, the better, but two missions, two failures within a day and only very few hours of sleep in between – no, this wasn't Arek's idea of fun.

“Hey, Arek, finally back?” a short woman greeted him, May, one of the navigators if his memory didn't fool him. He smiled at the elderly woman and nodded, glad that she continued her way to the elevator. For once, he didn't feel like small talk. Small talk usually meant questions, and that meant he either had to give answers he didn't want to talk about, or he had to lie.

According to the artificial night-and-day cycle it was past noon. Not that it mattered. Noon or midnight, there was always the same humming from the engine room, and the chatter and the buzzing of crew members walking through the corridors. Some had finished their shift, and either headed for their quarters, the bar or the mess. That was a perk of living on a cruiser – with a large crew and shift duty, he could order breakfast food for lunch, dinner, or a midnight snack when he was on his way back to his own bed.

 _Talking about beds._ His omni-tool signaled an incoming call, and he grinned when he saw the caller's name.

“Good evening, Sydney. Yearning for company? Sorry!” He jumped out of the way when he bumped into a weary looking hangar worker. To avoid another crash he stopped, and squeezed himself closer to the wall. White light from tube lights fell upon him, blinding his tired eyes.

“Why else would I call you? Got two hours left before my shift starts. Are you free?” Husky voice, and straight to the point, that's what Arek liked about the chief engineer. Technically, he was free, at least as long as Amalthea was caught up in the paperwork for their unscheduled need of a shuttle. He was also tired. So, what would it be – giving himself into Sydney's able hands, or going to his own bed, alone with his thoughts, until Amalthea showed up and strangled him for slipping away before answering her questions.

“Gonna be in your room in 20 minutes, after a shower. Need to get rid of the smell of Omega.”

“Be here in five, and I scrub it off your body myself.”

Arek's grin widened. Somebody was hungry and didn't want to wait for his snack. Worked for him just fine, two hours with Sydney equaled an afternoon in the gym. If he skipped training he could sleep longer.

“On my way.” He ended the call and turned around, heading back to the elevator. The chief had a quarter of his own, bathroom included, on the engineering deck, 'close to the madness,' as Syd used to say. It was too small to accommodate two people comfortably, but it offered enough space for sex.

“Hello, Arek,” a croaking voice called after him when he was about to enter the elevator. “Wait, please.”

Great, on his list of people whose company he could live without even on good days, this guy was in the top three.

“Barat. Hi.” A fake smile would have to do, he was too tired for fake enthusiasm. The drell caught up with him, smiling down on him. “Weren't you and your team deployed on Urdak today?”

“We returned two hours ago. Success was certain, and we reached it fast. Forgive my forwardness, but I don't envy you. Bodyguard, such a fulfilling task, and on Omega! Ah, I don't wish to lie to you – in my heart, I always wanted to see Omega myself one day. I hope you had a pleasant time despite the ungraceful task?”

“As pleasant as a station founded on crime can be. Gotta admit though, Omega has some nice sides.” Nice. Arek grinned at his own understatement. Beautiful, or awing was closer to the truth. The market from above, with the colorful life streaming through the streets, and the sight of docks where spaceships dived from the endless space into a tight-knitted world – Arek hadn't expected that he'd find beauty on the roof of an abandoned building. And he would have missed it if Mojo hadn't pointed it out to him. That this guy had an eye for things like that was difficult to believe, a puzzle piece that didn't want to fit into his picture of the turian.

“I'm sure it has.”

Oh right, Barat was still there. Arek had a bad hand with infiltrators lately. Unlike a certain turian, the drell wasn't rude, nor had he picked up any fights with Arek, yet, but...

“Urdak is an interesting place. I assume in terms of crime, it is worse than Omega, less organized. That made _our_ assignment dangerous, of course. I shot off some heads, I'm afraid it couldn't be avoided.”

“Probably not.” When Mojo looked down on him, sneered at him or insulted him he could fight back. The turian mocked his hair, Arek mocked Mojo's scars, the universe was in balance.

The drell, sharply dressed in his dark clothes with the long, black coat, always showed pleasant manners. He always had a smile for him, and treated Arek with polite kindness. However, Barat's arrogance and smugness was so sickening, it drove Arek crazy. If he snapped at him, and the so friendly drell with his large, sad puppy eyes complained about him, Arek would be the kind of bad guy he didn't want to be. Funny, how a feature of a species were charming in the face of an individual he liked, and how he despised the same feature when another individual annoyed him. Too bad that Barat wasn't a second Kalron, or he would have enjoyed a quick chat with the second drell on board.

He twitched when Barat put a hand on Arek's shoulder.

“Do you have a free moment? Allow me to treat you for breakfast. I could tell you more of my mission, and you could tell me about yours.”

“I'm sorry, I have a meeting.” Well, that was one way to call it, and it wasn't a lie, except for the part of being sorry.

“Ah, what a shame. I hoped you could enlighten me why I was – complimented out of my own quarter by those two turians. Of course, I also hoped you'd spend some time in my company, instead of the hairy arms of the chief engineer.”

“Uh, I... they kicked you out of your quarter?!” Right, Rani and Mojo shared a quarter with the two drell. The two teamed up against Barat? They _teamed up_? This news was fascinating enough to ignore the other remarks.

“I'm sure they'll divulge their secret to you in due time. You're a team, aren't you? Ah, I envy them.” Barat leaned forward, fixing on Arek's eyes.

Arek shuddered, struggling against the impulse to jump back when a long, smooth finger glided along his throat.

“You should consider a drell some time. You'd be delighted with the pleasure my species can offer you.” Eyes like wide, black pools were coming closer, and the intense voice vibrated in Arek's ears.

“I'll keep that in mind, thanks.” An unpleasant shudder was running down Arek's spine. The skin seemed to itch where Barat touch him, and Arek felt a sudden urge to scratch his throat, to make the itch go away. “But now excuse me, I gotta go, Syd's waiting.”

“Enjoy yourself.”

 _Exactly what I'm planning to do, thank you very much._ He hit the elevator button and slipped inside as soon as the door opened. He smiled, as politely as he could without pulling a grimace, and nodded Barat goodbye, waiting for the door to close.

 _Weirdo._ He selected the engineering deck, and leaned against the elevator's wall. Just his luck that he'd be on the same ship with a renegade turian and a predatory drell, and both had it in for him in the most contradictory ways. Yet, he couldn't deny that Barat had piqued his curiosity – was there really something unique sex with a drell offered? He had to ask Kalron about this. Hell, he wouldn't mind asking him for a roll in the proverbial hay to find out by himself, but alas, Kalron had given him a quite clear answer the last time he tried.

And then there was the mysterious sudden partnership between Rani and Mojo. What did he want from her all of the sudden, and whatever it was, she agreed to talk with him about it, in private? Could it be, that...

 _No, Arek, no judging of others by your own standards! Not everyone here is all about hooking up._ _Certainly not Rani who has her love of her life. Ah, sacred monogamy!_ The elevator came to its hold, and Arek stepped outside.

 _Thank God fate spared me that curse._ Without waiting for another encounter to delay his plans, Arek hurried to the chief engineer's quarter.

*

_The building never seemed to end. He looked down – if he fell now, he'd fall to his death. He had to go on, there was a ledge to grab on, he had to reach it! The tips of his fingers touched it, but it wasn't enough. He stretched, and his foot was slipping from its hold. There, a cable! He let go of the wall, closing the hand around the cable._

_His feet dangled above the endless abyss when the muscles his arm became weak. His fingers opened, the cable slipped from his grip and he stood on the roof._

“ _Enjoy the view,” a chuckling voice whispered, and the majestic starship across the market burst into fire._

“ _We both have our share in this.” A hand touched his shoulder. “I misjudged you, you should consider a drell, Arek Turner.” And the world started shaking._

 

His head was throbbing, his eyes were hurting behind closed lids. He curled up, turned his head, but the shaking didn't stop.

“Arek! Don't pretend you're sleeping!”

The voice had changed, it was less deep, it has lost its flanging as it whispered his name.

“I'd rather fuck you than him... Ouch!” He shot up in his bed when his cheek was pinched. He rubbed his eyes and blinked against the sleep that didn't want to give him free. Somebody had pulled away the light-tight curtain and sat on the edge of his bed. Artificial daylight illuminated the room behind the figure. He heard two other voices chatting, recognizing Sellrin, the salarian engineer who shared his quarter, and Alex, human sentinel and roommate no. 3.

His fourth roommate was glaring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that, and no, I neither want to know who 'you' nor 'him' is.” Amalthea grinned, poking his cheek. “You're putting some of the wildest asari maidens to shame, you know that, Arek Turner?”

“The way you say it I'm not sure if that's a compliment.” He laughed and regretted it when his headache came back at its full force. He wiped over the ceiling of his bunk bed, and the status screen flickered up in soft, orange letters and numbers. Good, he had worried for a moment that he had overslept, but it hadn't been more than three hours since he had fallen into his own bed.

“But I guess you didn't wake me up to question my morals?”

'”There's not much left to question,” she chuckled. “Not that I mind, just don't end up pregnant before the war is over.”

“I hope that I'll be dead and dust before science figures out how to make that possible! In case it happens during your lifetime, tell me about it when we meet in Heaven.”

“If you can wait a few centuries, I'll give you a full update.” They both grinned, and Arek wondered if the concept of having an 800 to 900 years difference of life expectation was as weird to the asari as it was to him if he thought about it too long. What did they think if they saw an old human, knowing that their own were still children around that age? It was a strange concept. He and Amalthea were around the same – well, stage of maturity, how could it not be confusing for the asari that Arek being in his late 20s was as old as an asari toddler, if measured solely in years.

And then there was Sellrin, Meyrani's boyfriend of some sorts, who had just hit 20 standard years, and yet, due to their different life expectation, the salarian was his senior.

Vorcha, though, reached full maturity after six standard years. Arek shifted uncomfortably as he kept thinking about that, and he was glad when Amalthea spoke on.

 

“Talking about updates,” she changed the topic, leading his thoughts into another direction. She wouldn't have woken him up without a good reason, and he hoped he didn't have to expect more bad news.

”We tried to find you earlier, but after we didn't find you here, nor in the showers, mess or bar, we could make some creative guesses that we'd rather not find you until you're back.”

“ _We?_ Wait this doesn't have, by any chance, something to do with Rani and Mojo suddenly having a private conversation after highjacking their room?”

“It has everything to do with that.” She looked over her shoulder, assuring herself that Alex and Sellrin were still busy with their discussion. Judging from her frown, Arek guessed that, if she could, she'd push those two out of their room as well.

“First off, I have no clue what you've done, or how you've done it, but thank you! Mojo's still the rude, arrogant ass he is, but he has dropped a large portion of his don't-care act.”

“Guess it was less my influence and more the fact that both our acts got people killed.” Arek rubbed his temples, wondering if the screams and the smell of the fire would haunt him forever. Yes, losses were part of a soldier's life, and he had learned to go on and put the dead behind him. Still, it had been impossible to forget the first dead that had once happened because he didn't have a chance to prevent them, and now he wouldn't be able to forget the dead he was responsible for.

“Don't punish yourself, Arek.” Almathea covered his clenched fists with her hands. “We figured out a bit more about that Murakos guy, also thanks to what Mojo could tell us. There was a chance for you to save the family, yes, but they didn't just die because you warned Murakos instead. He's ruthless, and he doesn't leave witnesses behind. From all what we know now, they would have died in the flames even when you guys hadn't been there, and even when all his demands had been met.”

“I'm not sure that really makes me feel better. But I get what you're trying to say. If Rani hadn't intercepted the distress call, if we hadn't found them, if Mojo hadn't been from – lived on – Omega before we'd never had known about a shortcut, and they'd have died for sure. My decision just... sped up the inevitable... Nope, not really feeling better, I fear. But thanks for trying.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was grateful to have a friend like her, sane, strong, trustworthy, and he hoped he could be an equally good friend to her some day.

“You will. Give it some time.” She smiled, then she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Listen, what I tell you know has to stay between the two of us, Meyrani and Mojo, you hear? No confidential drunk talks and confessions when you're with Kalron, or one of your lovers, Arek.”

“Or course not! Thea, I know when to be serious!”

“Good. Meyrani and Mojo put together what they'd known so far, and dug a bit deeper,” she began to explain. If she was surprised that the two of them suddenly worked together then she didn't show it. Arek, however, raised both eyebrows; the attempt to picture Mojo sitting peacefully at a table and exchanging information with any of them gave him a headache. He wished he could have seen that conversation, if it was only to know if Rani had to threaten to slit Mojo's throat again. Or – as unlikely as it sounded, even to him – if Mojo was realling pulling himself together from now on. He'd ask Amalthea about these specific details later, for know, he kept his mouth shut and listened.

“Mojo had a hunch that there was more going on than a simple haggle for money and influence between a politician and a gang. Murakos is a genius at wiping his traces, so there's not much yet. Except for one thing: One of his active contacts, an asari called Dinra, has also been in steady contact with a human named Boris Price.”

“I'm not sure if I'm learning about Murakos, or if I'm hearing about a plot about the latest telenovela. Sorry, I shut up, please go on!” He bit his tongue when she growled at his interruption.

“Over the last years, Dinra was involved with one of the gangs on Omega, Eclipse. There are also few hints that she's a double agent for Aria T'orak, Omega's leader, but Meyrani and Mojo's research didn't confirm any of that.”

“Boris Price is different?”

“Not so well hidden ties with Cerberus.”

“Holy fuck!” Cerberus seemed to have their noses everywhere these days, and they'd been more relentless during the last week than they'd been over the last few years. And they rarely got involved with persons or situations just for the kick. “Am I wrong, or did this just get a lot bigger?”

“That's what we're going to find out soon,” she replied with a grim smile. “Let's say, there's a Cerberus base that not only has Alliance relevant data but is also under the command of a close acquaintance of Price. Miraculously, against all the odds, we've been assigned to that mission, and no, I don't want to know how they managed to do that.”  
  
“Who did what... oh, you mean...!” He grinned. Meyrani was smart with computers on a level beyond Arek's grasp, he hadn't been aware of this adventurous streak slumbering in her. Hacking into the ship's computer and manipulating the assignments? Not bat, not bad at all.

_I have to apologize to her for thinking she's just some cute, sweet nerd. Damn, I'm surrounded by badasses!_

“So, where are we going?” He pushed his blanket away, and threw his legs over the edge of his bed.

“Noveria, but don't get too excited, we still have two days until we leave this system.” She shoved him back onto the bed when he was about to jump out. “You look horrible, so get enough sleep until then, will you? But first, let me tell you the plan.”


	8. No Holiday on Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creeping through the snow  
> blowing obstacles out the way,  
> still a few more miles to go  
> is it really worth the pay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is over, time for some snow, no?
> 
> Artwork by [Blastedking](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/130558524853/wonderful-meyrani-avilius-here-is-one-side).

Covering behind a rock, Arek glimpsed around its corner. Almathea was crouching through the snow, closer to the trail leading away from the main road of Aleutsk Valley. He looked around. Mojo had taken cover to his left behind one of the many other rocks, his hands clenched around his rifle. Meyrani was waiting to his right for the signal to move on. Since her accident a few days ago she had recovered quickly and assured them that she was ready to fight. Yet, she was avoiding to put too much weight on her leg.

The shuttle had dropped them close to Aleutsk Valley, far away enough from the sensors of Port Hanshan, Noveria's capital. Cerberus activities had been high recently, and their captain had assumed that landing too close to their destination would probably not remain undetected. Deep snow hindered their steps, and their armor didn't hinder the cold from creeping into their skin. Temperature regulation worked at its best, and as long as the snowstorm didn't return, they weren't in more serious danger than a few shivers.

Amalthea waved at Arek, and he leapt out from his hideout by her side.

She pointed at the trail. He nodded, threw himself on his stomach, and crawled forward, closer to the parking patrol vehicle. Two guards leaned against it, two more were standing close by. He hadn't seen the uniforms before, and from his position, he couldn't read the bright yellow print on their backs, but he suspected they belonged to one of the major research companies stationed on Noveria. He opened the com channel.

“Definitely not Cerberus. What is this car? This isn't a Mako, right?”

“It's a rebuild of a M29 Grizzly IFV,” Mojo answered to his surprised. “They were a standard vehicle used by the Alliance until a few decades ago but proved too heavy for combat or research purposes after humanity expanded. Was replaced by the Mako. This looks like the classic model improved to be manoeuvred through high snow and on hard ice, even when the weather conditions worsen.”

“Nerd.” Arek grinned behind his mask, more broadly when the turian gave an indigent snort. “Anyway, anything I should know? Explosives on board? Any other than the standard weapons?”

“Not with the original model,” Meyrani took over. “As they tempered with the outside, you can never know what they've put inside of it. My scans don't deliver any clear results from this distance.”

“Guess I better don't blow that thing up then.” His view up and down the trail was obstructed by rocks and overhanging shapes of ice. If he stood up and walked forward they'd spot him. His squad had no business with them, but the order was clear: Don't attract suspicion, avoid being noticed, get in, get what was needed, get out. In other words, another boring stealth mission, at least for the official part.

A rock large enough to cover him stood out several feet in front of him, from there, he should have a better overview of the situation.

 

 _No risk, no fun._ Keeping his head low he dashed through the snow. They'd only been on Noveria for half an hour, but his muscles were already stiff, but he pushed on.

He was fast enough to not sink into the white masses too deeply, and with one big leap, he dived behind the cover. Holding his breath, he counted to ten – if he had been noticed, he'd know any second. If the guards thought they had noticed anything, he had to keep it quiet for a moment in the hope they'd blame it on their imagination, or an animal. If there were any animals on this godforsaken snowball of a planet.

He counted down another dozen before he shoved himself around the cover. The guards were still talking with each other, their poses relaxed. Looking further down the path, to his left, he discovered the half of another vehicle, a standard shuttle. Its front was lurking around a bend, wearing different colors than the Grizzly. Guards from two different companies, hanging out together out of sight from the main road, having a chat – Arek doubted they were here on business or investigating anything.

 _Lazing on the job, eh? How about a little excitement to lift your work ethics?_ He cursed whoever was responsible for the dark color of his armor, if he blended in with the white and grey around him, he could sneak closer to the shuttle, making things a lot easier.

“I got this, guys! Come closer, but stick to the walls. Run once they're distracted!”

“Confirmed,” Amalthea answered, and he set to work. Back on his stomach, he let himself sink deeper into the snow, then he crawled on. If he messed with the shuttle from here there was no chance they didn't notice him, so he had to distract them first from the distraction.

 _That might work, though..._ Several meters to his right, a group of icicle was hanging from a ledge. If he brought those to fall... He worked his way through the snow, moving closer to the stone wall to his left. From here, the shuttle was in plain view to his left, to his right the group of guards, and only a bit further, the icicles. Using a shockwave was out of option, the way it travelled through the air would catch their attention before it reached its destination.

 _Too bad for you that I still have another ace up my sleeve._ He selected a spot between the smaller icicles behind the largest. He focused, watching the air wavering as he pulled its energy into a tiny, blue sphere. The first icicle moved, pulled towards the centre of the small singularity field. Carefully, he allowed it to grow, not too fast, not too big. Sweat formed on his forehead – using forceful control was much more difficult than simply creating the core of the field and letting it expand into its natural size on its own terms.

The icicles were vibrating, torn between their frozen stasis and the singularity's gravitation. Only a little more...

A white flash of light hit the unstable field.

The following explosion shattered the fragile ice around it and shaken by the impact, a layer of snow from the ledge above crumbled and crashed downhill.

The heads of the guards jerked around at the sudden noise, only a second before the buzzing remains of the shattered forcefield dissolved into thin air. All for of them pulled their guns and ran towards the commotion.

Their backs were turned towards Arek, who didn't waste any time – he rose from the snow and sent a shockwave towards the shuttle. He didn't want to destroy it, but the used force was still strong enough to give the vehicle a strong push. Its side lifted from the ground, offering the second shockwave enough surface to push the shuttle up and on its back.

The four guards forgot about the avalanche, spun around and ran back to the shuttle.

“NOW!” Arek shouted shortly before they reached it, and jumped to his feet. Running as fast as the ground allowed him he dashed across the road, his three squad members right behind him.

 

*

“That was close, think they saw us?” They had kept running through the rough terrain for solid ten minutes before they slowed down, and Arek gasped for enough air to speak.

“Most likely,” Meyrani panted beside him. “But thank to your diversion chances are good they didn't get a closer look at our uniforms.”

Arek heard a sharp hiss before she muted her channel. Her shoulders were hunched, and she was limping. Slightly so, and she tried to cover it, but not only Arek had noticed it.

“They didn't look like they were up for a hike, I think we can take it easy from here on.” Amalthea fell from the firm jog into a trot, and the others followed suit. “Rani, want me to carry some of your equipment? The turret alone is heavy enough. Give me at least your grenades.” The asari pointed at the belt hanging around the turian's waist.

“No, thank you. I'm fine.” Meyrani had re-established her com channel, and her voice was free from pain or any strain at all. “Besides,” she chuckled. “I'd rather not have you charge into an enemy or trigger one of your biotic fields with these on your body.”

“Tough like nails, like always.” Arek gave her shoulder a friendly slap, admiring how she was holding up. His sore muscles had hardly recovered from his climbing adventures on Omega, and now he found himself in the mountains, pulling himself up a rock, and offering Meyrani a hand to pull her up. He rubbed his hands against each other once everyone was up and they walked on. The fabric of his gloves had reached their limit, and his fingers threatened to become stiff if he didn't move them.

He checked the map of this region on his omni-tool, looking up with a sigh. If nothing came up they should reach their destination in twenty more minutes, give or take, not calculating in the high formation of rocks they had to climb. The wall was covered in ice, like the rest of the damn planet, except for the parts that were covered with snow. Hiding more ice underneath. At least the filter of his visor was adjusting without any trouble, shielding his eyes from the brightness around him. Noveria's sun had reached its peak, and while it was not strong enough to melt the everlasting snow, it light reflected from every ice crystal around them. The snow was glittering, and the ice wall shimmered with a soft, bluish glow.

“Wouldn't mind a vacation here over Christmas, but damn, as a job, this place sucks. Let me guess – we go above, not around?”

“You humans and your Christmas!” Amalthea laughed, looking up the obstacle. “There's no way around it, literally. The base is somewhere up this plateau, so we have to climb it sooner or later.”

“Don't take me as lazy, but maybe we should search for a more... efficient path.” Arek pulled off one of his gloves and let his fingers run over the solid ice. “This here looks pretty smooth. Although I bet our turian chimp would somehow manage to go up there, and if it's by glaring holes into the ice. Which reminds me-” He turned around, looking at Mojo who stood behind them with his arms crossed. “What's up with you now? Ran Out of snark? What?” he asked when the two women chuckled behind their helmets.

“Haven't you wondered why your singularity detonated? _Somebody_ we won't mention by name had the bright idea to do some stuff with his omni-tool, which broke it.” Amalthea shrugged, shaking her head. Meyrani walked towards Mojo, tapping at his arm. He stretched it out, and she activated the scanner of her own omni-tool, waving it over his.

“It's not broken, temporarily disabled,” she corrected their leader. “He overclocked the processors and discharged the generated heat as an electrical impulse.”

“How can he fuck up using an omni-tool?! Uh, he can't hear me, can he?” At least the helmet was giving Arek an excuse for not trying to read the turian's facial expression.

“Probably not, unless you both take off your helmets. And it wasn't an accident, he knew what he was doing.” Meyrani deactivated her scanner and nodded, giving the other turian the thumbs-up. “The tool is back to a tolerable temperature. The repair matrix is working, and he should be back online soon.”

“Good, barking orders at him in sign language just doesn't cut it.” Amalthea laughed, gesturing at the others to follow her further into the mountains.

“Probably not, but I for my part will enjoy the silence while it lasts.”

“Arek, I think that goes both ways in this case. Now come!” The asari stomped through the snow, here eyes set on the map of her tool. “Let's see if we can find a better spot to get up there without moving too far away.”

 

*

The door slid open, and Meyrani signalled them to hurry. Arek and the others shot out of their cover, a Cerberus shuttle that was parking in the middle of the base's landing zone. They pressed against the wall behind the door and waited for the next signal from their engineer. Meyrani's fingertips were dancing over the display of her omni-tool. She entered a command, waited a moment, and began typing again. At least, she nodded. Walking back to them, she took off her helmet.

“I fed the cams with a loop of the last 20 minutes and disabled the motion sensors. The security is on a medium level, nothing Mojo and I can't deal with. Still, I recommend Arek and you staying behind us, in case we stumble over unexpected measurements.”

“Got it. Well done, Rani.” Amalthea pulled off her helmet and put it on a ground. She waited until Arek and Mojo's helmets joined hers.

“All right.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she spoke on,”From here, Rani and I will go and retrieve the plans from their so-called 'secret lab', following the official orders. Mojo, is your omni-tool working?”

The turian tapped his wrist and shook his head.

“Repair scan and data reconstruction at 78%.”

“Meyrani, transfer the map of the upper floor to Arek's omni-tool,” the asari ordered; Meyrani obliged within seconds, finishing the task while she spoke, “The data is encrypted so it can slip under the official radar. Mojo will decipher it for you.”

“Wait, I thought I was going with you two, since when did we agree on me joining him?” Arek bit on his tongue. Since their return from Omega he had kept his mouth shut at Mojo's snide remarks, and in return, Mojo had dropped the mockery and switched to ignoring Arek. He wouldn't call the atmosphere between them friendly, but he'd rather keep it quiet between them than going back to the open hostility.

“For once, he has a point. I don't need a babysitter,” Mojo joined his protest to Arek's relief.

“I agreed on that with me and myself, and therefore, you two are outnumbered! Did any of you really believe I'd let one of you wander off alone, without backup?” Chuckling, she lifted her chin, her hands stemmed on her hips. That was her last word on the matter, and Arek knew better than to argue, or to question her authority, yet, he was still irritated.

“And why telling us that now, and not right away?”

“So you'd get on my nerves about it during the whole trip? I don't think so.” With that, the topic was off the table. She pulled her gun, patted Meyrani's shoulder, and nodded at the corridor stretching in front them. “Now, everyone! Helmets back on, and get going! Arek, don't forget to switch to our closed com channel! Mojo, you, too, once you're back online!"

 

*

Meyrani's manipulation of the security cameras proved successful. The two groups split once they reached the elevator. Amalthea and Meyrani were remaining on the ground floor, following the way down to the laboratories, while Mojo and Arek searched for the emergency stairway leading to the offices on the first floor. Arek kept close to the grey wall, trying to hide in one of the few shadows of the well-lit corridor. He pressed his ear to the door in front of them – nothing. He opened it and grinned over his success. The stairs lay in front of him unguarded.

 

“Cerberus feels pretty safe up here,” he whispered, and gestured Mojo to follow him.

“No wonder. It takes a group of fools to march through that spirit forsaken hell of ice to get here just for fun. Send me a copy of the map.” Mojo's voice grumbled into his ear – so his omni-tool had recovered from its recent misuse.

“So it's true, turians don't deal well with the cold?” Arek moved the small data package across his screen and transferred it to his squad member.

“I appreciate decent and reasonable weather. Don't touch the door!”

Arek's hand jerked back before his fingertips touched the lock. Mojo walked past him and scanned the door.

“Just waltzing in would have been too easy, eh?” Arek moved a few steps back downstairs to get a better overview. Nobody had followed them, the door leading to the ground floor was still closed as they had left it a moment ago. He shoved his mask up to uncover his ears and listened – silence.

“It's safe now.” A low signal from Mojo's omni-tool confirmed the hack, and the door opened. The turian stepped into the next corridor, holding his viper, ready to either fire or smash it into an enemy's face. “All good here.” He lowered the weapon and checked the map. “Come now!”

“I'm sure there's some law against locking an emergency exit.” Arek pulled the mask down and jogged after him, his fingers twitching and ready to launch a biotic attack, half-expecting a dozen of troopers jumping into their way.

“Yeah. Because Cerberus is so concerned about adhering to the law,” Mojo spat, taking cover behind a door frame leading into a foyer. “Watch your step, things are going too smoothly.”

“Pessimist.” In absence of another cover, Arek sneaked up behind Mojo; in his armor, the tall turian's back wasn't exactly a secret hiding place, but for the slim human in his light protective suit it worked as a shield well enough, in case they were attacked.

They waited a moment, both listening and staring on their omni-tools – they were the only detected lifeforms. A generator between the walls pumped air through the vents with a constant, buzzing noise. Arek wondered if the rushing sound came from the thermal heating, or if the weather outside had changed.

Two desks were standing in the foyer, the computers on top of them on stand-by. The windowless room lacked any personal touch. The walls were as grey and barren as those of the corridors. The cold floor reflected the bright, fluorescent light from the ceiling lamps. If it weren't for the lack of dust Arek would have assumed this place had been abandoned for a while.

 

“Boring.” He walked around one of the desks. The top was clean and empty, not one stray piece of paper, no forgotten data pad, not even a picture of a family member, or at least a dog. He reached for one of the drawers, rattling it.

“Locked, but I think I can pick it.Do you think we should give these a closer look?” He turned around, but Mojo was already standing in front of the door at the end of the room.

“If something's here I doubt they'd hide it on their secretaries' computers or in their desks.” He waved his arm over the door's lock, giving a contemptuous sneer. “Of course.”

“Do we need Meyrani?” Arek moved closer, throwing a curious glance past the turian.

“Of course not.” Typing away on his screen, Mojo scowled at the door, waiting for the signal to change to green. Arek waiting, fearing every moment they were standing in front of this door was giving Cerberus more time to come up with a nasty surprise for him. He tiptoed through the room, scanning it for hidden bugs. Nothing. And no signs of anyone coming.

“Strange. You'd think somebody was here, in the middle of the day.” He returned to Mojo, waiting in vain for an answer. “You know what you're doing, right?” He observed the columns of code on the turian's omni-tool, understanding not one single line. “Never thought a guy like you was into hacking.”

He waited a moment and leaned against the wall when he was ignored again. Time stretched endlessly, even when only one or two minutes passed, and he was getting bored.

He was missing a good fight, one in an area wide enough for him to ran around, and enemies to kick out of their socks with his skills. Of what use where his biotic powers – excellent biotic powers – if there wasn't anything to do for him. He envied Amalthea, at least Meyrani would talk with her, and give her real answers if she asked something.

To make things worse, after Omega, Arek had become curious. Who exactly was this guy whose eyes were banned at the screen? More than a rude, trigger-happy sniper, that was for sure, but Arek knew better than trying to start a conversation, neither a 'shut up' nor having his head bitten off would bring more insight.

All he could do was checking this sad excuse of an office once more. Who knew, maybe he'd find something helpful inside one of the desks, or at least something that would entertain his mind for a bit. He walked up to the nearest workstation when a satisfied grunt called him back.

Finally, the lock on the door turned green.

 


	9. Office Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If little kids are bored they get strange ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize in advance - I'm a bit tired right now so I did an even sloppier job than usual with the spellchecking, but I didn't want to break the "update on Friday"-routine.
> 
> On a brighter note - thank you for 20 kudos ♥

“About time. No offense, just grudging with the lock here, and the dull place. Isn't Cerberus usually all about fancy stuff?”

“Depends on where you stand, obviously.”

“Well.” Arek pushed himself the wall, grinning once he walked into the next room. “That's more like it.” A white carpet absorbed his steps. While the walls were the same like in the rest of the building, large painting gave them an air of splendour. He walked past a statue, an abstract figure of square shapes and spheres connected by wires. He stared at it, tilting his head to read the title.

“Waterfall. Funny, would have bet it's 'Hi, My Name is Art and I'm Expensive.'”. That was a chuckle! I heard it! Short, and cut off by a cough, but he was sure that for the first time, he had managed to lure a laugh out of Mojo. He thought of saying something but changed his mind. No need to push it.

He left scanning the office to Mojo and headed straight to the desk. The piece reminded him of the one in Hackett's office. Straight lines, refined in its simplicity, made from dark, polished wood. He let his fingers glide over the surface. Nice, better than those cold metal constructions in the foyer. He forgot about the desk the second he spotted the chair.

“Why do we never get an objective like 'Help yourself with a comfy chair'?” The dark leather creaked under his weight. Sighing, he leaned back and put his hands on the armrest, stroking the smooth material. His feet rested on the desk.

“Get moving and let me do my job.” Mojo stood behind him, grabbed the chair by its back, and gave it an abrupt turn that hurled Arek out of his seat.

“You're a killjoy, do you know that?” Scowling, he shot a glance of regret at the chair that now had the turian sitting on it. Well, there was still the dark, red sofa standing at the wall, opposite to the window. He threw himself between the cushions. It wasn't leather, but comfortable enough. He pulled off his protective mask and stared out of the window. The sun had disappeared behind a layer of heavy clouds. Those hovering above the base were of a fluffy white, but the further he looked into the distance, the darker they became. At the horizon, the sky was almost black. A few innocent snowflakes were dancing in front of the window, and he heard the wind howling.

“Those are things you learn when you're friend's an engineer and computer scientist.”

Arek looked up, for a moment confused where the voice was coming from, and what it was talking about.

“Oh. Yes.” He recognized the late answer of his question from before, confused that Mojo chose to answer him. “You mean Rani?”

“Ibrahim.”

“Of course, your old friend.” What had he said on Omega again – it wasn't about talking with Arek, but talking about this Ibrahim. So that was why he was talking, and for a second Arek had been foolish enough to believe Mojo wanted to chat. Silly me.

“What's with Rani? You two were pretty friendly with each other, all of a sudden.”

“Not friendly,” the turian replied, without looking up from his work. After pulling off his helmet and placing it on the desk, he had switched on the computer, and connected it with his omni-tool, so far Arek could follow. “Her expertise in computer science is a key to solving this whole mess.”

That whole mess, in other words, Murakos' alleged connection to Cerberus, and what had led to the murder of the Kabale family. His squad mates had been obsessed by this case since they had returned from Omega. Arek, too, would have been happy to find out what had led to the tragedy, and to put a stop to whatever was brewing up. Only – after retelling what he had witnessed there wasn't much left to do for him. He had to leave the research to Meyrani and Mojo, and Amalthea saw it as her responsibility to shield them from their superiors. Arek knew how to use his omni-tool, how to use a computer, but he wasn't a hacker, and he was lacking access to further information and the direct line to the captain.  
As it was, all he was doing what the others asked him to do, and waiting for the moment when his battle skills were required. If this moment ever came; there was no guarantee that they weren't just led on a wild goose chase.

“She's a genius, isn't she? I'm surprised she was willing to listen to you. No offense – again,” he sighed, finding no amusement in the challenge to word his questions so that Mojo wouldn't take them as another provocation. “What I mean is, before Omega, she threatened to kill you. And then she just listens to you, willing to break enough regulations to risk her career? Because you asked her?”

“You wouldn't survive long on Omega if you are fooled so easily by youth and a pretty face.” Mojo paused his typing and leaned back into the chair. “The kid's not half as innocent as you think. Haven't you wondered how she learned about the distress call?”

“Well, not really,” Arek had to admit, frowning as he thought about it. There was a constant stream of news, updates, information and also distress calls that were sent to their omni-tools. About the war, where the SSV Hamburg was heading, updates about finished jobs, data about new assignments, and usually, brief summaries about the jobs of the other squads.  
He jerked up, turning around and staring at Mojo.

“Omega's security doesn't belong to our ship!”

“Congratulation, you got it. Which means, she hacked into their channels. Curiosity, or hoping for something interesting we could meddle with, no idea. Fact is,” he continued to explain while gazing at the ceiling, “She is an excellent hacker, she was excited about the distress call, devastated by the result. She'd hack into the Geth's hive mind if that got her revenge. Gotta leave it to her, the kid's dedicated.

Besides.” Mojo chuckled, his face moving in a way Arek assumed was a grin. “It helped that she thinks I'm hot.”

“Oh come on! That's ridiculous!” Arek sneered, falling back onto the sofa. ”I happen to know that she thinks you're a jerk.” Like every sensible person on board, but he kept that to himself.

“I said she thinks I'm hot, not that she wants to marry me.”

“And she told you that.”

“Believe it or not, but there's one person in this room right now who can read a turian's face, and it's not you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, shame on me.” These jokes weren't getting better because their core was the truth. “So, did you guys fuck?” He grinned from the inner satisfaction when Mojo choked and began to cough.

“Spirits, Turner, not everyone solves their problems by... this way.” His fingertips were tapping on the armrests.

“Well, sometimes it works.” Arek shrugged, unfazed by the not too subtle implication.

'”No, we didn't, before you spread any rumours. She wouldn't cheat on her Mr. Brain, and I'm not interested in... kids.”

“Isn't she 19? It's legal as far as I'm informed.” Forgive me, Rani, but this is too good! If he had one wish, he'd ask for turians to be able to blush. Judging from the way Mojo shifted in his seat, looking from the computer to the window and back, the mandibles twitching, Arek had hit a nerve. Or rather, found a topic that made Mojo lose his cool, without snapping and threatening to kill Arek.

“Shut up, I have to focus!” He shot a dark glare at Arek, then he bent over the keyboard and his omni-tool. “If you're bored, search for the heating and turn it up.”

“Sure, hot stuff.” Arek chuckled and stood up, grinning at the turian's growls. Aw, if you weren't such an asshole that would almost be cute. He wasn't feeling cold, while it wasn't hot in this office, the temperature was agreeable, especially after their mountain hike outside. But as he was bored anyway, he might as well have another look around this place, although he guessed that Mojo could temper with the heating through his omni-tool if he wanted.  
Don't think that would distract me enough to forget about this. He glanced at the turian when he walked past him. Since they had first met, Arek had thought that Meyrani was pretty, in an unusual, fascinating way, so different from human females. He hadn't wasted much time to reflect on Mojo in that regard. The scars covering his face made him stand out, and Arek's knowledge about the importance of facial tattoos combined with his opinion on Mojo's character had offered a simple solution: Ugly as hell. He had to ask Rani about that, and he was dying to know what she had to say about Mojo's claim. Frankly, he expected to have a good laugh.

He finished his walk around the room, finding nothing that resembled a control panel for the heating. He returned to the sofa and sat down. Mojo didn't look up from his task, nor did he say another word. The room was silent, all Arek heard was his own breath, the humming of the technology that kept the base warm and lit, and, once in a while, the turian typing on the computer's keyboard.  
Arek checked his own omni-tool – no updates from Thea and Rani, so everything was going well for them. He was about to open the com channel, thinking he might as well ask them how much more time they needed, and if there was anything he could do, but then he stopped. He turned off the interface, stood up, and walked over to the desk.

“You're a pest. What do you want now?” Mojo growled when Arek sat down on the desk's surface. Arek didn't answer at first, only watched him in silence, and Mojo returned to ignoring him.

“We should fuck.”

“WHAT?!” Mojo's head jerked up, staring at Arek's serious face with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“You said it yourself, some of us solve their problems in bed,” Arek explained with a light, but earnest smile. “And as I said, sometimes it works. Mojo, we're making our lives and our work a living hell. It got better, but there's still this hostile tension between us. Why not turn it into sexual tension, and act on it? Better than strangling each other. It's only logical.”

“It's not logical at all!”

“And you're into guys anyway, right?” Arek continued, ignoring the turian's protest. “That's why you aren't interested in Rani, although she's such a pretty, smart girl.” That, and whatever was going on between you and that Ibrahim.

“Mostly, it's not like I never... that's not the point! I... I have work to do.” He gave Arek a push, but before he could shove him from the desk, Arek grabbed his wrist.

“Think about it. I mean, I didn't say I want to marry you.” Arek grinned all over his face. If he remembered one turian facial expression for the rest of his life, then it would be Mojo being flabbergasted.

“You are serious, aren't you?” Mojo pulled his hand free after a short pause. When Arek nodded, stood up, still struggling to keep his face calm. Towering over Arek, he put his hands on the desk, his face only inches away from Arek.

“How many?” he asked, lowering his mandibles to bare his teeth.

“Uh, I don't follow?” Arek scratched his head, refusing to move away.

“How many turians so far?”

“Well, none. But it works between humans and turians, I know that much. I've seen mixed couples, and isn't even Commander Shepard with a turian? Heard that on the news.” No, I'm not nervous, and I have not bitten off more than I can chew.

“Watch real news for once instead of those gossip channels. So you don't even know what you'd get yourself into?” Something was lurking in Mojo's lowered, hoarse voice as he spoke, something that Arek couldn't identify. A nervous shudder ran down his spine, but he maintained his smirk.

“Hey, I'm not a virgin, I know how to take a dick, thought you were aware.” He swallowed a chuckle when the turian twitched at his language and looked away, his composure already shuttered.

“The whole ship is. What if I... if turian males are differently... built than humans?”

“Like what, twice the size and covered with spikes and ridges?” His laughter broke off when Mojo raised the plates above his eyes in mild surprise.

“Oh, so you did at least research something about turians. Glad you got your priorities straight.”

“Wait, that's true? I mean, sure! Hey, who doesn't love a challenge?” If Mojo thought he would back off so easily he was wrong. Sure, he'd give him some time to think about it, and if Mojo stuck with his 'no', then fine. If he changed his mind, well.  
Time to get kinky, I guess. Unless he was kidding. I mean, he could be joking, right?

“What do you say, I'm sure we can find a quiet corner once we're back on the Hamburg.”

“Forget it.” Mojo turned away, ending the discussion with a threatening growl. “Now excuse me, I have to crack another partition.” Mojo sat down again and checked the process on the computer screen. He gave a satisfied nod and resumed his work. “Call the others, we'll be done here in a few minutes.”

“Not necessary, incoming call from Thea. And don't think the last word is spoken yet!” He activated his tool and accepted the call. “Hey, boss! How's it going?”

“Arek! We've been discovered! We got into hiding in time, but there are troopers on your way, and more reinforcements are coming! Get out of there NOW!”

“Fuck! We gotta go, Mojo!”

“Not now!” His eyes glued to the screen, Mojo's fingers moved feverishly over the keys. “I almost have it! I need two more minutes!” he hissed through clenched teeth. Arek watched his intense face, watched how the turian's shoulders and back were becoming so tensed that Arek feared Mojo's spine would snap.

No, not again. Not the same mistake.

“Thea, send us the coordinates of the rendezvous point, meet you there!” Arek broke off the call and jumped off the table. “I'll buy you five minutes! Just make sure it's not for nothing!” He ran towards the door, snatching his mask from the sofa and pulled it over his head.

“Finally, a job for me!”


	10. Growing with the Challenges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arek has to fight Cerberus, survive fighting Cerberus, and to escape Cerberus. Which he has to survive, too. At least Mojo's plan includes him as well, but that Arek alone is now responsible for both their lives somehow dampens the thrill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone! In this chapter, I came to realize once more that writing action scenes is freaking hard! I base fight dynamics on the ME multiplayer (which is fun by the way. If you haven't tried it yet, I can only recommend it.), most of the time. There will be tiny inaccuracies - it's not always possible to transfer in-game mechanics 1:1 into a story (cool down times, how shields and barriers work, medigel that brings the wounded back from the death, things like that). So please don't be confused if you remember things slightly different from playing the game.

Arek dashed out of the office. Half through the foyer, the door to the stairway was smashed open. A shockwave hit the Cerberus trooper's chest and threw him back where he came from.

“It's a biotic!” somebody shouted from further downstairs through the angry yells.

“And there's enough for all of you babes!” Arek shouted, grinning as he pictured how a group of troopers was knocked off their feet and pushed down the stairs. A gun fired, missing his head by several inches. Before they could recover their aim, Arek jumped behind one of the desks, taking cover. The next figure jogged through the door and was greeted like his colleague.

“At least try to make it a challenge!” He fired a third, a weaker shockwave without aiming at anything in particular; just a little thing for show. He heard voices and footsteps, but nobody came closer. This wasn't a good sign, but if they took a moment to change their strategy they helped Arek buying the extra time Mojo needed.

A shape moved behind the door frame, and Arek shot the next shockwave – the attacker didn't fell over, but opened gunfire from behind his wide shield.

“Fucking guardians.” Glancing over his cover, he focused on the air behind the now two guardians, conjuring a singularity field. It worked – it pulled them away from their shields. As soon as they left the torsos of the guards uncovered, Arek fired another shockwave.

But his attack had cost him valuable seconds – three troopers ducked and rolled from behind the guardians over the floor, escaping the field's gravitational pull. Arek began to form another shockwave but broke off. His vision was becoming blurry from attacking too many times in a short time; if he kept this speed up, he risked fainting for a weak result.

He grabbed his submachine gun and fired. Two of the troopers fell, the third was taken out by a hearty smash against his head with a chair when he came to close.

Arek had no time to convince himself that the trooper was dead, or at least knocked out for a longer while – the next group stormed inside the room. A lamp flickered to the next to the door. The elevator!

“Fuck... Mojo, do you hear me? How much longer do you-” Shots pierced through the desk. Arek rolled back, and pressed himself against the wall, avoiding the deadly burst by a whisker. He had recovered enough to take out two more troopers and to relieve another guardian from his shield.

The elevator opened.

“Oh no, not you freaks. Sorry, guys, I'm not into whipping.” He grabbed the chair a second time and hurled it towards two dragoons before they could jump at him with their biotic lashes. The valuable second was enough for him to place another singularity in front of them. Their armor was too heavy for the field to pull them off their feet, but for a moment, their movement was slowed down.

Arek backed away and leaped behind the second desk.

He threw a volley of weakened shockwaves through the room. His head began to hurt. Sweat formed on his temples and down his spine, but he had no choice. He had to push back long enough for Mojo to finish, until then, he had to hold his position. Firing his gun allowed him to recover from the strain of producing biotic attacks, the next array of shockwaves allowed the SMG to cool down before it overheated. There was no time to change the thermal clip.

“Fuck off, space ninja!” He jumped up, grabbed the computer and threw it at the phantom. The slender, wiry figure dodged the blunt attack. Arek could have sworn he heard her giggle. He stepped back, ducking to evade the shots at him. His attack missed her and fizzled out when it hit the shield of the next guard.

He reached for his gun. A sharp pain cut across his upper legs; before he could fire, he lost his balance. Falling on his back he dropped the SMG, and when the white flashes cleared from his vision, the phantom was standing above him, her sword raised.

 

She halted – her body was twitching.

Then, her head was jerked back when a shot pierced through her forehead. The sword fell to the floor, and the phantom crashed down next to it.

“Move!” A second shot hit a dragoon square in the chest, drilling through the armor. A hand grabbed Arek by his arm and dragged him up.

“Damn, I was never so happy to see you!” Arek laughed, more stumbling than running after Mojo back into the office while shots were whizzing past their heads.

“Less talking, more moving!” Mojo pulled him through the office door, hit the lock's interface, and it fell shut. Arek let himself fall against the door with his back, gasping for air. His legs were still hurting from the dragoon's attack. The lash had cut through the fabric of his suit and scorched his skin.

“Any secret passage out of here?” he panted, shrinking away from the door when it was hit with blunt force from the other side. The turian walked across the room and finally halted in front of the wide window.

“Are you powered out?” Mojo asked, staring outside. The weather had changed. The sky was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. Snow whirled through the air, a thick, wide wall blocking the view. The storm was howling.

“Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.” Arek smiled, taking a deep breath. The faint headache would go away soon if he didn't overdo it now, which meant if they find another way out other than fighting their way through a Cerberus army.

“I don't worry about you. I need you to do your job.”

“Great, and for a moment I thought you were for once caring about a teammate. What the hell are you doing?!” He watched in alarm as Mojo returned to the desk and picked up the heavy office chair.

“Getting us out of here!” With that, he hurled the chair against the window. The glass didn't shatter, but a long crack shot across its surface.

“We can't jump down there! We'll break our necks!” But the turian ignored him, picked up the chair, and threw it a second time. The crack widened. Arek looked from the window to Mojo, and finally, to the coffee table standing by the couch. A broken neck, or being torn to pieces by Cerberus. Or taken prisoner, which sounded even less appealing. Well, helping Mojo was better than standing around and doing nothing. He hurried over to the table, kneeling down to grab it by one of its legs.

“You do not move an inch!”

Arek flinched when Mojo's threatening voice thundered into his ear. The turian suddenly stood by his side and shoved him away from the table, and lifted it himself. Arek was pushed off his balance the second time within the last minutes and fell onto the couch.

“You'll break our fall with one of your magic tricks! Use the time to recover for that!”

“A biotic sphere?! Mojo, I suck at those!” Arek shouted over the sound of the table banging against the window. “I'm trained for biotic attacks, not defense!”

“Take the chance to broaden your horizon.” This time, the table crashed through the glass. Mojo gave a laugh of triumph and strode back to Arek. It had become suspiciously quiet behind the office door. The attacks had stopped for the moment, and it was only a matter of time until reinforcements arrived, either in form of a hacker, or more plain force.

“That's suicide, Mojo!” Arek pushed himself closer against the back of the couch. “I can create a weak sphere for a second or two, enough for one person to soften a short fall or a light crash. But not for the two of us jumping from the upper floor of a building! I'll get us killed!” He tried to roll away, but Mojo seized him by his wrist and pulled Arek with him.

“Don't waste your breath. You can hold more than a dozen of Cerberus vermin at bay, but you want to tell me you can't focus on a stupid sphere when it counts? Pull yourself together and get ready!” They were standing in front of the window. Snow was blown inside, and the cold wind soothed the burn on Arek's legs. He stared outside, not daring to look down. Noveria had disappeared behind the snowstorm, if there was a wall in front of him, or rocks right beneath them to fall on if they took one step further, Arek wouldn't know.

Mojo's arm wrapped around him. So the turian was serious about this, and unless Arek attacked him, there was no way he could escape this crazy plan.

“Maybe if I create it as late as possible...” He glanced down, and all he saw was snow being hurled against the wall. He took a step back, but Mojo's firm grip held him back from retreating. “Fuck, when is as late as possible, I can't fucking see a fucking thing!” His arm slipped around Mojo's thin waist. _And you guys are so fucking slim... Please don't break to pieces, okay?_ He gave a jerk when he heard shouts coming from the foyer. Somebody meddled with the door. They were running out of time.

“Everything that doesn't kill us is good enough, Turner.”

“And if it kills us?”

“Then we've lost nothing. Doubt those guys want to invite us over for tea. Hold tight and focus!” Without a further warning, Mojo jumped.

 

The cold hit Arek hard, pressing the air out of his lungs. He forced himself to breathe, and to keep his eyes open. They were falling, and if they crashed, they wouldn't be able to soften the fall by rolling, unless they let go of each other. Yet, he was clinging to the turian, feeling the sharp hips and the plating of his armor pressing through his light suit.

He had no choice. Holding his breath, he focused on his mind. For his attacks, he had to gather the element zero energy inside of him and release it over his hand before its concentrated ripped him apart. Quick, short, and powerful, and equally quick to replenish. A protective sphere, though...

In his mind, he wandered through his own body, waking and drawing the dormant energy from his cells. He was shaking as the implant in his brain amplified the powerful eezo. He could release a weak field now, but it would dissolve within a second if he didn't take care to stabilize it.

He pushed the energy out of his body, his mind following, expanding the fragile sphere until he felt it was closing around him and the turian. His heart was beating against his ribcage, and his throat was dry as he struggled not only to keep the field up but to enforce it.

It wasn't enough to let them float, but it kept them in the air for a short moment before it burst after touching the ground, shortening their fall to less than two meters instead of two or three floors.

They crashed into the snow, Arek landing on top of Mojo.

“Heavens, are you okay? Are you alive? Geez, please be alive!” Arek hurried to wipe the snow from Mojo's visor and started to pull at his helmet. A hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.

“Alive and kicking – you if you don't get off and let me get up!” Mojo growled, but Arek was certain to catch the sound of a subdued chuckle. Grinning, he rolled over and stood up, offering his hand. Mojo took it and let Arek help him up.

“We really did it!” Laughing, Arek looked up. He couldn't see far enough to see the window from where they were standing. “I did it! Ha! Guess you could say I saved the day!” His laughter grew louder along with the storm in his skull. As he was staring upwards, the dancing snowflakes began to spin, whirling around in a hypnotizing vortex that threatened to engulf him.

“The day's not over,” Mojo chuckled, catching Arek when he fainted. “But yeah, we're not dead. I'll mention that to our dear leader so she can praise you.”

*

Cold. Cold, cold, cold. And why the hell was his alarm slapping and shaking him?

“Wake up, Turner!”

“You again,” Arek groaned, huddling himself deeper into his mattress. “Thought about my suggestion?”

“I changed my mind. Keep sleeping.” The shaking stopped. “Fucking storm. Can't see a thing,” the voice grumbled, moving away from him.

“Storm?” Why should there be a storm in his bedroom, and who the hell had tempered with the thermostat? Arek opened his eyes, confused that he had slept with his mask on. Above him, there was nothing but snow falling down on him.

“Oh!” He sat up, brushing the snow off his arms. Everything was coming back to him. Their hike through the snow, breaking into the base. Cerberus attacking. The jump out of the window, the biotic sphere...

“Welcome back.” Mojo stared through the scope of his rifle, then, with a sigh, he lowered the weapon and turned towards Arek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Thanks!” _Take this, Thea! Mojo asking me if I'm okay beats him thanking you!_

Although, 'okay' was still rather euphemistic. The good quality of his implants didn't save him from a migraine after releasing his complete eezo reserves. His body felt strangely empty, and although the tingling in his veins told him that his cells were already recovering, he would need a while longer before his biotics were back to their full power. A bit more rest and his body would survive the intense use of them.

Yet, he was alive, nothing seemed broken, the pain in his legs was gone – cooled to the point of being numb.

“Unless you push us off a cliff as our next step, I guess we'll survive.” He stretched his arms and his legs and began kneading his hands to keep the blood circulating. “How long was I out cold?”

“Five minutes or so.” Mojo was back on watch, trying his best to scan the area through his scope despite the snow. “Fuck this.”

“I'm sorry, if I hadn't passed out we'd be out of here by now.”

“Forget about it. With this weather, my omni-tool not fully functioning and a powerless biotic we wouldn't have gone far anyway.” With a growl, he slid back behind the cover – an overground pipe transporting hot steam from the depths of the planet. “On the bright side, the weather should also make it difficult for them to find us.”

“Hope so. Give me another minute or two, and I'll be fit enough to defend us when we make a run for it. Have you contacted the others?” Arek checked his own tool, expecting it to blink with an incoming call or message, but there was nothing.

“Tried to, but either mine isn't back to business, or the signal is jammed.”

“Wouldn't surprise me, if not by Cerberus, then by the weather.” Arek tried in vain to connect with their official and their private com channel. “What happened to your omni-tool this time? Damage from the fall?”

“No. I shocked the phantom you were cuddling with. Best way to lower their shields before shooting them. These fragile N7 omni-tools they give us infiltrators are damn useless. Melt too easily.”

“Ah! Yeah, you saved my life back there! I haven't thanked you for that yet, right?” He laughed, blinking against the pain in his head. “You know, I slowly start to think that you aren't that bad after all.” He closed his eyes and waited for his brain to calm down.

“Don't get any ideas. I needed a biotic to get out of that mess.”

“You're really digging this hard-to-get-act, don't you?” _You are aware that this kind of behavior gets some people only more interested, aren't you?_

“I'm not acting anything.”

“Come on, don't tell me you still dislike me that much.” An assumption he wouldn't make if he wasn't sure about it. They were miles away from liking each other, Arek figured, but speaking for himself, he had to admit that Mojo was annoying. Irritating. More skillful than Arek had expected, and indeed interesting. In a train-wreck way, yes, but still interesting. 'Dislike' or 'hate' didn't cut it anymore, and if his insight into human nature didn't betray him – or was somewhat fitting for turians as well – then the change was mutual. _Someone_ only needed more time than others to sort it out.

“While we're at it,” he continued, dissatisfied with Mojo's silence and determined to not drop the topic so fast, “I never got why the hell you disliked me that much in the first place!”

“This is hardly the time and place to discuss the magic of friendship, Turner.” There it returned, the harsh sneer, the belittling tone. Arek failed to be impressed by Mojo's attitude this time, but had to admit, there was some truth to the words.

“Point taken. So, here's the deal. If we manage to get out of here alive, you'll explain it to me once we're back, patched up, and warm!” Fine, he didn't mind postponing the matter, but he wanted an answer, if not now, then later.

“If you insist,” Mojo replied in a tone that might as well have meant 'if you think you'll survive', and shrugged.

“Should also give you enough time to think about my offer. I still think we should just fuck.” He'd have paid money to see Mojo's face behind the helmet. He saw the changes in the turian's pose – the sudden tension, his hands fidgeting over the rifle he was still holding.

“Spirits, Turner, do you ever know when to stop it?” Mojo turned away, lifting the viper and studying the snowstorm through his scope.

“If you agree you could find out. But I warn you.” He grinned behind his mask, shoving himself a bit closer to the turian. “Stamina is one of my many strong points.”

“You... I... shut up. Just shut up, for the Spirits' sake!”

“I'm sorry. Don't think I'm desperate and trying to harass you. It's just... It's funny to break through your _cool_ for once.” Arek laughed, and moved away from him, restoring the space between them.

“Hilarious.” He raised his hand, cutting Arek's next remark off. “Did you hear that?”

“No?” He choked down his laughter when Mojo didn't reply. He followed the turian's example and opened the scanner of his omni-tool, but all he received was distorted, grizzly noise, with the symbols jumping all over the place. He deactivated the scanner and listened.

From not too far away, he heard thunder rolling. No, not thunder, the dull thuds were too regular for that. Regular, heavy, and uncomfortably familiar.


	11. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still snowing, Cerberus is still on their heels, and the weather will only protect Arek and Mojo as long as it doesn't kill them. Time to agree on a way to get out of this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly late upload! However, if you live in a time zone that still says Friday - nevermind ;)

“Don't tell me...”

“Atlas.”

Another minute passed by, with the two men waiting in silence, listening to the slow stomps. The howling wind carried the noise all over the yard, making it difficult at first to tell from where the new threat was coming. Arek gave another try with his omni-tool, but the scanner was still useless, the com channels still dead. He hoped that Thea and Rani had found a safe spot to hide, and maybe they even succeeded to call the shuttle before all communication broke off.

He looked around, trying to understand their position. He wasn't sure how far Mojo had moved him after he had fainted, for all he knew they could still be right under the office with its now broken window, although he doubted that. Cerberus would have found them if they had remained too close to their improvised escape route. Talking about Cerberus, something was off anyway. He crouched closer to Mojo, and shouted against the storm,

“Isn't it odd that they have an atlas here? At a small research lab? And an army including dragoons and phantoms?”

“It's only odd if they weren't hiding anything. Which is good. I'm not a fan of jumping out of windows for nothing!” Mojo shouted back. “Fuck, it's coming closer!”

The stomps were getting louder, and Arek was certain that he caught voices coming along with the atlas. That thing wasn't alone, and if he and Mojo kept shouting, they'd give away their position to whoever was supporting it. If it was another phantom or a dragoon, they were in trouble. Or rather, even bigger trouble than they already were. Mojo had made a similar conclusion – he grabbed Arek by his shoulder and pulled him closer, lowering his voice as much as the noise around them allowed.

“Do you have your gun?”

Arek reached to his back, but his fear was only confirmed when his hand closed around nothing.

“No. I lost in when the dragoon attacked me...”

“Excellent.” There was something admirable about Mojo's talent to let one single word drip with that much sarcasm.

“I'm not a good shot anyway, and I'm almost back to my full strength. Don't worry, I can stand my ground here, Mojo.” He would, somehow. Being blown to smithereens while being sliced and shot and who knew what else during a snowstorm wasn't the heroic death he had pictured for himself.

“Yeah, and faint a second time, and get us both killed when I have to pick you up before you suffocate with your face in the snow.”

“You...” he began, but a third voice interrupted him.

“I think... over there... come...” The wind swallowed most of the words, but they had heard enough. Cerberus knew they were here, and they had only a few moments left to come up with a plan how to defend themselves. And more importantly, to get out of this mess.

“At least we're knowing now from where they're coming.” Mojo turned, and knelt behind the cover, the viper resting on top of the pipe. “Still can't see anything,” he muttered after another look through the scope. Arek stared at the white curtain wavering in front of him, but as he expected, he couldn't make out anything in the distance. With the thick snow, he was glad that he could see Mojo next to him. A few steps further away, and he might as well be alone.

“Listen, Turner. Do you think you can make one of your blue blasts, without killing yourself?”

“If you mean if I'm well enough to create and fire a shockwave, yes, no problem.” He closed his eyes and focused, smiling when he felt the familiar energy resonate within his body. He hadn't fully recovered yet, and his head was still hurting. A longer combat could be tricky, but a few attacks shouldn't do any harm.

“Just tell me where and when. I can barely see my hand in this chaos.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Mojo checked the scope again, then he began typing on his omni-tool. “Activate yours.”

“Hu, why?” He couldn't make any sense of what was going on in Mojo's head, and how their useless omni-tools related to his biotic powers, but suddenly, he registered an incoming message. Mojo's device asked for confirmation to transfer a package of files.

“Mojo, what exactly are you doing here?” A thought tried to take shape in his head, he just couldn't recognize it yet. Something was going on, and he feared he wouldn't like it.

“Now accept already, we don't have much time left.”

“Not when I have no clue what's happening. Gimme the short version!”

“It's what I got from the Cerberus computer. Confirm already!” Mojo was shifting impatiently, growling at his screen.

“Okay...” He hit the button, watching the data transfer. It took only a few seconds, and he wasn't sure at what exactly he was looking, but it seemed a batch of a decent size. It made sense that not only one of them was in possession of their day's work, in case... just in case.

“Why do I have the feeling that this isn't just about a backup? Mojo, what the fuck are you doing?!” The second the transfer finished, Mojo began typing on his device, too fast for Arek's eyes to grasp what the symbols meant, but he new one thing – the alarm signal of the omni-tool, warning of a malfunction if whatever was happening wasn't interrupted immediately.

“Stop this!” He leaped at Mojo's arm and pulled his hand away from the tool. “Are you nuts? If you fry that thing again and we lose sight of each other when running through this storm there's no way to get back to you!”

“Spirits, Turner, get off!” Mojo shook his arm, pushed Arek with his free hand, but he didn't let go. “We're not losing sight of each other while running away, okay? Now let me finish this!”

“Yeah? And you're so sure of that why?” He'd bet money on his hunch that he wouldn't like whatever Mojo was about to explain.

“Because here's what we'll do. Once that thing's close enough, I'll shoot an electric impulse, and you'll detonate it with one of your magic tricks. That should keep them busy for a moment while you run.”

“And you're going to stay here.” Bull's eye _._ What the hell was wrong with this guy?! Did he really, for only one second, believe that Arek would flee and leave him behind as canon fodder for Cerberus?

“If you head that way,” he pointed over Arek's shoulder, “You should sooner or later get to a wall. Climb it, walk around it, don't care. Just do it fast.” Mojo was still struggling against Arek's grip, but he was clinging to the turian's arm with both hands now.

“You're kidding me.” This was so absurd, it wasn't even worth shouting.

“I'll keep them busy here as long as I can, and you make sure that the data's recovered,” Mojo ignored him, trying to pry Arek's fingers open and to slip away. “You should be strong enough to deal with a trooper or two on your way.”

“Yeah, and you're getting shot here, or lost in the storm because even the shuttle won't be able to detect a melted omni-tool. I don't think so.” If he had a hand free he'd punch him in the guts. He couldn't get behind it, what was this idiot thinking of him?

“Arek Turner, do you remember what happened the last time you didn't trust me?” Mojo yelled at him, but Arek didn't let this change of strategy impress him.

“Yes, and the last time I did trust you I was thrown out of a window and almost got both of us killed. And I swear I'm gonna hit you for that low blow later!”

“Well, you're alive enough obviously to get on my nerves, you useless idiot!”

“Nice try, still not going to leave you behind, asshole mode or not. For once, we'll do what I say. Come!” Still clinging to the turian's arm, Arek jumped back to his feet. He needed most of his physical strength to move Mojo, who only reluctantly allowed Arek to pull him up.

“Instead of waiting we're gonna do what we should have done right away. Run!”

“That's the stupidest ideas of them all! Do you really have to hear it, fine!” He tried in vain to pull himself free from Arek.

“I'm too slow in this fucking snow! You're light, faster, and can defend yourself, while I cannot see a thing! That's why your chances to survive are better when you run while I do my best here! Satisfied?”

“Nope. You still owe me some answers, and I'll make sure I get them.” Arek grinned behind his mask, let his hand glide down the turian's arm and closed his fingers tightly around his wrist. “Until then, enjoy the luxury of having your own seeing human. Let's get outta here! Or do I have to knock you out and carry you?”

“Yeah, like you could-”

“Then get moving already, you stubborn bastard!” To his relief, Mojo gave up his resistance. Arek ran into the direction Mojo had told him, pulling the turian after him. Not one second too soon – a rocket shot through the air, hitting the ground a few steps too far to the left from where they had been hiding. A shudder crept down Arek's spine. The second or third rocket would hit home, and if they had followed Mojo's plan it wouldn't have mattered anymore if his omni-tool was functioning or not.

He threw a look over his shoulder. Mojo was behind him, holding his rifle in his right hand. It wasn't easy for the turian with his slim legs and heavy armor to wade through the snow without stumbling. Arek, swift as he was, was struggling as well, but he refused to be defeated by the weather!

Cerberus wouldn't give up that easily. They couldn't hear the noise of the atlas' steps anymore, but more rockets were fired. Also, voices were shouting – if the troopers were leaving the atlas behind they could move faster. If they were used to the weather they would catch up with them, if phantoms were with them, then sooner than later.

Arek's foot hit against something hidden under the snow. He lost his balance and fell over, but a grip around his wrist caught him and kept him on his feet. He nodded at the turian, feeling more of the old antipathy crumble when Mojo nodded back.

 _You aren't such a bad sort, are you?_ They were back on their track, the wind howling around them, pushing against their chests and throwing snow into their faces. Arek guided Mojo through the white hell, feeling the strong fingers clamped around his wrist.

Finally, the sight in front of him changed! They arrived at a wall like Mojo had mentioned it before. Standing high and unimpressed by the storm it created a blind spot the snow couldn't reach. Arek pushed himself to a last sprint, dragging the turian after him. He reached out and touched the wall, laughing between his gasps for air.

“We're... not safe... yet...” Mojo stumbled against the wall, hitting it with his shoulder when Arek refused to let his hand free.

“I know. I'm trying to figure out where we are.” Above them, the storm was unbroken. There was a ladder, but Arek wasn't sure if it was a sane idea to climb it when he couldn't tell what awaited them on top. They could walk along the wall, with no clue what expected them there. Standing still much longer was an equally bad decision. The muscles in Arek's upper legs were burning, but his lower legs were tingling where his blood was fighting against the cold. His feet, however, were numb. He tried to wiggle his toes, not sure if anything happened in his boots or if they were frozen off.

“How far down did we fall? Deeper than the ground level of the building?” He looked at Mojo. The turian was trembling, maybe from the strain of the run through the snow, maybe from the cold, probably both. Neither Mojo nor Meyrani had confirmed the rumor of turians being troubled by cold weather, but Arek already guessed that it was more than prejudice. If he felt bad and sore, it had to be twice as bad for the turian.

“Think so. If we climb this, we probably return to the level where we started. Good chances the main entrance is above us.” Mojo was more hissing than speaking, and Arek heard his teeth chatter.

“Good sense of direction.” If he hadn't passed out and been dragged around the place, maybe he'd be able to make sense of the area, but as it was, Arek was lost. As far as he was concerned, they could be standing anywhere on Noveria. Right now, he wished the ladder would lead right into the sun – he wouldn't hesitate the fraction of a second to climb it.

“What do you think is waiting for us up there?”

“Who knows. Nothing. Troopers. A turret. Another atlas.”

“Yeah, exactly my thoughts.” Arek stared at the ladder. He put a foot on the lowest rung and took it back again. Anything could be up there, or nothing, because they were waiting around the corner. “What do we do now? Up there, or along the wall?”

“If you listened to me you'd have to decide on your own, too.”

Arek watched him with concern. For once, he missed the sarcasm or the plain rude tone. Mojo leaning with his head against a wall, sounding tired like he had just been woken up wasn't what he wanted to see and hear, not in this situation.

“Along the wall. Come. You can sleep later.” Arek gave him a playful punch to the chest, and took a step back, pulling Mojo with him. The turian put one foot before the other, slowly setting himself in motion. He followed Arek without protest, adapting to the human's speed.

“Who's sleeping here...” Mojo regained a shadow of his attitude and fell silent. Without another word, they walked on, with Arek listening if any of the Cerberus forces were catching up with them, or waiting for them behind a corner.

He blinked when he thought he saw something moving, but it was gone – or just his imagination. If it had been a shadow against the whiteness, then it had been too far away to spot them, he hoped. But he slowed down, shoving himself and Mojo closer against the wall.

“Wait. There is something!” Arek stopped, stumbling when Mojo walked into him. There _was_ a shadow, he hadn't been mistaken. It was moving slowly, but it was coming closer.

“Attacking, or playing dead...” He readied a shockwave. If he waited for another moment the shadow should be close enough for his aim, but what then? The attack could attract others, and depending on the shadow's armor there was no guarantee that a single shockwave was enough to knock it out. If he waited he risked that the shadow saw them, and alarmed whoever was searching for them.

“Attack,” the tired voice behind him whispered, and Arek launched the attack. The blue wave shot through the air and disappeared.

“Missed I think. Dammit!” He kicked the snow and sighed. His arm was hurting, and his fingers were as numb as his feet, no wonder his aim was off. He would manage two or three more shockwaves, or a singularity before he needed another rest. But the pain was still throbbing in his head, louder and brighter when he shot. His throat was dry, and his stomach growling. Resting five minutes or half an hour didn't make much of a difference – what he needed was a good meal and a few hours of undisturbed sleep before he was back to his full strength. The snow covering his feet seemed to drain his energy from his body, along with what warmth was remaining. He better avoided a physical fight, he'd be down before he threw a punch.

So back to biotics, while his powers lasted. He took a deep breath and waited for the next shockwave to form around his fingers. This time, he would let the shadow come as close as he dared, and fire square into its face. If he was luck he could loot a weapon or two. He hoped for a phantom, served them right if he relieved one of them of the silly sword.

“Arek?”

“What is it? Any new ideas?” He tilted his head back, but Mojo shrugged, shaking his own head.

“Didn't say anything.”

“Arek! Mojo!”

No, that wasn't coming from behind him. Somebody in front of them was calling his name! Not only that – the blue glow illuminating the silhouette wasn't a trick of his imagination.

“Thea!” He fell into a jog and was pulled back when Mojo behind him stumbled, taken by surprise by Arek's sudden movement. They both recovered their balance and hurried towards the figure. The more they closed the distance, the more the figure took shape. The tall, buff asari emerged from the snowstorm, her armor glowing.

“By the Goddess, there you are! We thought we lost you! Are you okay?” She patted both of them on the shoulder, assuring herself that it was really them and that they were alive. Arek grinned. He'd give her a hug if he hadn't to make sure that Mojo didn't do anything stupid.

“Glad to see you're finally friends.” Amalthea laughed, and pointed at Arek's hand – he was still holding the turian by his wrist. Mojo's fingers were hanging limply from his hand.

“I missed your optimism!” Arek followed his first impulse after all – he let go of Mojo, and fell around the asari's neck, giving her a hearty hug. “Guess you could say we made it out alive, but damn, I need a nap. What about you two? Where's Rani?” He looked over her shoulder, but there was no second shadow lurking behind her.

“We got out of the building in time. Meyrani contacted the shuttle before Cerberus jammed all communication. We made it back to the path we climbed up, and that's where she's waiting. I fear the cold is affecting her more than she admits.”

“But she's okay?” He thought of her limping through the snow on their way up here, thanking all Gods available that she hadn't been with him and Mojo.

“She's fine. She won't admit that the whole ordeal and the cold had taken a toll on her injuries, but it's nothing a bit of rest won't cure. She's just exhausted.”

“That makes three of us. I'm glad at least you're still in top form.”

“I was lucky today, and free from previous injuries. Let's hurry back, the shuttle should arrive soon. I'd rather get there without bullets in our backs.” She checked her weapon; her biotic aura flickered and diminished until it was hardly visible. It wouldn't offer much protection lowered that much, but it would also be more difficult for Cerberus to spot her through the snow.

“Same. Hey, did you hear? Time to get outta here!” He punched Mojo's chest when the turian remained standing still.

“Yeah, whatever.” Mojo shrugged and followed his squad mates.

 

*

 

“I told you, Arek, everything's good. You can stop asking. Where's the data?” Meyrani rolled up her eyes, still impatiently tapping on her omni-tool as she repeated her demand. Arek decided voicing his concerns wasn't worth risking her slicing his throat, and began to transfer the data package he had received from Mojo.

Despite only copying immaterial information, he felt relieved from its burden. The young turian had brushed his questions off since they had climbed into the shuttle, eager to figure out if their side adventure had been worth the trouble. He left her alone with her omni-tool; obsessed as she set herself to work he had no place in her world anyway.

He stretched his arms and legs. The shuttle wasn't heated, but the engine produced enough warmth, and they were protected from the storm. His skin began to burn as the sensation in his upper legs returned. His toes, feet, and lower legs were still numb. He turned his torso from the right to the left, flinching when the first thing he felt in his back was pain. His body needed a rest, better even, a rest after a massage.

He rubbed and kneaded his hands while answering Amalthea's questions, irritated that Mojo left all the talking to him.

“Sounds like the reason why we could slip away was that Cerberus had their eyes on you guys.”

“For you, dear Thea, I'd jump out of a window right into the arms of an atlas any time. For Rani, too, of course!” He grinned, making a deep bow.

“Good to know, but don't make a habit of it.” The asari grinned back. “I'm not sure if I'd have had been that confident of your biotics. I know you're powerful, but I also know the toll it takes to use a power you've never trained. Especially when under fire.”

“Yeah, guess we were lucky that this dork is as ignorant about biotics as I'm about hacking, eh?” He kicked Mojo's leg, frowning when he didn't receive a response. Mojo had huddled himself into the corner of the bench, arms crossed in front of him. He was the only one still wearing his helmet, and his head was leaning against the wall to his left.

“You're getting me worried here. Mojo?” Arek shook him gently by his shoulder. Amalthea rose from her seat when the turian didn't answer, as worried as Arek. Meyrani looked up from her screen, following their leader's movement with her eyes.

“Mojo? This isn't a good time for a prank. Is everything all right?” The asari took him by his shoulders, shaking him less careful than Arek before. The tall figure seemed to slump down under her rough handling.

“Take off his helmet!” Meyrani jumped up and shoved Amalthea aside. Her fingers moved along the edges of the helmet, found the security clips and unlatched them.

“Fuck! Rani, is he-” Arek stared in alarm at Mojo's closed eyes, clenching to the helmet that Meyrani shoved into his arms.

“He's hypothermic! Spirits, guess there's something wrong with his armor. Maybe a tear.” Her hands moved along the turian's throat. Arek flinched when she suddenly slapped Mojo. “Wake up! You have to stay awake, do you hear me?” She hit him a second time, and all three of them sighed in relieve when he groaned and his eyelids fluttered.

“Is he in any real danger?” Amalthea inquired while sending a message to the Hamburg, alerting the medical staff.

“Not if he gets help quickly. Arek, help me with this!” She waved him over and began to open the latches holding the chest plates of Mojo's armor together. “Our limbs are long and slim in proportion to the rest of our bodies, cold can cause some serious damage pretty fast if ignored. Help me getting him out of his armor and lying him down on the bench. You take care of his hands, I'm taking his legs. We need to keep his blood circulating!”


	12. Bedside Manners and a Defrozen Turian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mojo isn't dead. He's alive, and, well, grumpy. He likes woolen socks, but of course nothing else!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I copied the odt-document into Scrivener and now it won't copy/paste italics. Meh.  
> But, thanks to dear Blastedking and the Black Friday Sale last week, I now own Scrivener.
> 
> By the way, change of the point of view, yay!

His legs were in pain. They were heavy, too heavy to move. His mind was too slow. Damn, he hated the cold, and now it got him for good. He had never wished himself back to Omega before, but compared to the damned snow and the storm, the memories were speaking of a paradise of lights and heat wavering through the pipelines and the streets. Mojo tried to move his arms and felt his fingers twitch. There was warmth around him, and he wanted to get a hold of it before it slipped away. There also were voices. And the pain still wasn't gone from the side of his body.

“He's waking up. Mojo, can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes. A face was taking shape above him. A dark face, white, braided hair falling over the slim shoulder, and large, dark eyes that stared down at him.

“Yeah...” His vision grew stronger, the features of the face were taking shape. This was one of the doctors on board of the Hamburg. What was his name again, Wilson? Mojo remembered him, from the medical exam after he came on board. The dark eyes and dark complexion had reminded Mojo of his friend.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Not Noveria, or Omega. The ship?” He blinked when a bright light shone into his eyes.

“Good. Do you know your name?”

“That's none of your damn business.” Finally, his arm followed his order. He brushed the doctor's hand away, but when he tried to sit up, the stinging pain kept him down.

“You guys can stop worrying. He's already back to his old self.” The doctor turned around, waving for the others to come closer. Mojo groaned. Another one of those friendly chats was the last thing he was interested in now.

“His body temperature is back to normal.” The doctor picked up a data pad, checking his notes, or updating them. “There was a scratch on his shoulder from a bullet. That was what damaged his armor and let the cold in. Not pretty, but no lasting damage.”

“Yeah, the cold is really a problem for turians, right?”

 _Spirits, that human!_ He should have known that he'd regret running back into the foyer to get this idiot out of there while directing Cerberus' bullets to himself. Ungrateful idiot.

“After so many hours on Noveria, a damaged suit would have been a problem for everyone.” So Meyrani was here as well, always ready to defend the honor of all turians that had ever breathed. “It took you some time to warm up as well, without malfunctioning protection,” she continued berating Arek.

“Come on, Rani, can't you just admit for once that you guys don't deal well with cold weather?”

“No.”

Bless the kid. Young as she was, and of course full of that pretentious pride for the turian race, at least she didn’t let this little idiot get the better of her. If he didn't pay attention, he might actually start to like her. The chuckle died in his dry throat and turned into a cough. _Damn, that shit hurts!_

“Don't worry, lay still another hour, and the worst will be over.” The doctor put a calming hand on his chest, stopping him from jerking up. Mojo lifted his head – some of the sick bay's machines had been shoved over his torso. So that was where the warmth was coming from. He was suspicious of strange devices he couldn't manipulate himself, and he wasn't comfortable with being forced to trust them, but he had to admit that he felt a lot better than when he had in the shuttle.

“You stubborn fool!” The asari had stepped beside him and glared down at him. “Almost frozen to death, cracked ribs, you might have told Arek that you were in trouble, you know? Or us once we were safe.”

“Because of a chill and a few bruises?” He sneered in disgust. Cracked ribs, though? So that had been responsible for the stinging. He hadn’t thought anything of it as it stopped after a while when he had begun to freeze to death. Yes, it was making sense in hindsight. Still, this was nothing to complain about. “Do I look like a whiny human?”

“Nope, but like an idiot who gave us a good scare when you passed out cold!” Amalthea snapped back, the darker tone of her voice hinting at her rising temper.

“No pun intended?” Arek chuckled behind her.

“Absolutely intended. Either way.” Her expression softened. “Glad you're back with us. You did a good job, and thanks to you, we've got some sweet intel, and our biotic back in one piece.” She turned back to Arek and put her arm around his shoulder, pulling him forward. “He told us that Cerberus would have killed him if you hadn't helped him out.”

“And I told him already that I did so because I needed his skills to escape myself. Saving him was... a side effect.”

“Sure.” Her grin was unnerving, but the look of discomfort on Arek's face was comforting. The last thing he needed was them getting any ideas about finally taming him or making him a valuable member of their buddy club. However, it was good to hear that their troubles hadn't been in vain, and he preferred seeing that human alive over living with the choice of letting him be killed when it had been so easy to get both of them out of there.

“Give him a rest. You can exchange pleasantries later. I'll release him in an hour or two.” The doctor shooed them away from the bed and dimmed the light above him. Mojo closed his eyes. The brightness had been tiring, and he still was sleepy. One or two hours of undisturbed sleep didn't sound bad, although he'd rather return to his own bed. But if he weighed in that the doc would make sure nobody bothered him, well, things could be worse.

“Mojo?”

“Turner.” And – things got worse. This guy really was a pest, did he have to die to be left alone, or would this idiot find a way to travel into the realm of the death, if it was only to bother him? He thought he heard a distant voice laughing. He's growing on you, admit it. No, he wasn't! Shut up, Ibrahim, you're an idiot, his mind scolded his memory. To hell with the doctor, why did he have to remind him so much of his friend?

“I want to apologize. I'm sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” He opened his eyes, looking up at the pale face. The fine muscles under his face plates twitched. Human males looked funny when they didn't shave. With the red stubble, Turner looked even whiter than he already was. The dark circles under his eyes were another contrast. This guy needed sleep. Arek should take a nap instead of tearing on his nerves.

“Your ribs, it's my fault they're broken.”

“Bullshit.” _Don't get any dumb ideas, human. Don't you have enough things to brag about already?_

“No bullshit. Doc said they broke from blunt force taken to the chest, like, something heavy that tackled you, or, well, fell on top of you.” Arek didn’t have to specify what he was meaning. There had been only one impact to his body that was heavy enough to deal enough damage to break a bone or two, thanks to a bad angle.

“Must have been Cerberus.” _Just go. Go away. I don't want to talk with you._

“Or a human adept whose pathetic biotic field burst a tad too soon. And who survived the crash with nothing but a few bruises because you broke his fall.”

“You're ridiculous.” What did he have to do to make him stop? He didn’t want to hear more of this or be turned into something in the human’s eyes he wasn’t, and that he didn’t want to be.

“Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'm not trying to get a nice word out of you. Just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. And thank you.” Finally, Arek turned around and walked away. The door to the sick bay closed, and Mojo was alone with the dim lights and the mellow humming of the machines around him. He closed his eyes again and waited for sleep to take over before the doctor or anyone else with questions returned.

_And he is growing on you after all. I know you, Mojo._

_And I said he's not. I just can't stand watching others die when only a little effort would save them._

_And yet, you-_

_Spirits, shut up already. I don't need a ghost of the past picking on me. And once and for all, this asshole is not growing on me, he still stands for everything I despise, in case you have forgotten._

Although... there were things Turner had said and had done, that didn't add up. Mojo had to admit before that he had misunderstood Arek’s motivation, back on Omega.

Mojo sighed. He wanted to turn around. The pillows they used for male turian patients weren't comfortable. He wished he could change the position of his head, but every inched he moved was punished by the pain coming from his ribcage. Stupid human jerk, if Turner had left him behind as he had told him he wouldn't feel more than a slight sting, thanks to the numbness from the cold. Also, he would be dead, shot, or killed by his own ribs piercing through his organs.

 _Fuck all this._ Suddenly, one or two hours sounded like a long time.

 

*

 

“Ah, there you are! Didn't you get the call?” Meyrani caught up with him while he was on his way back to his quarter. Doctor Wilson had woken him up four hours after Mojo had finally fallen asleep.

_“The bones are back in their place, and the breaks fixed. But take it easy, it will take two days until its fully hardened. No running, no fighting, no whatever caused it in the first place, understood? And keep yourself warm. You got some first and second-degree frostbite on our feet, legs, and shoulder. At any signs of infection or loss of feeling you'll come back here at once!”_

With that warning, Mojo had been shooed out of the medical bay. Most of the pain was gone unless he twisted his torso too quickly or moved too fast. He had regained full control over his legs, but the tingling in his feet and calves wouldn't go away, no matter how much he stretched or wiggled his toes. Well, even if it went against his principles, he'd for once not challenge the doctor's orders. Besides, he was still sleepy. A good meal wouldn't be the worst, and then, more sleep. First, however, he was looking forward to exchanging the torn suit he had been wearing beneath his armor and the gown from the medical bay for comfortable pants and a sweater. He considered keeping the socks, though. If anyone had asked him what the biggest achievement of humanity was, he'd have answered woolen socks.

“Nice dress, it flatters your hips.” Meyrani chuckled, pulling at the white sleeve. “Sorry, one of us should have thought of bringing some of your clothes.”

“I'm sure you were busy crawling through Cerberus' filthy secrets.” They walked along the corridor together to their shared room. Mojo ignored the grins from the crew members they encountered. He didn't need to be a genius to guess what a sight he offered and that their opinion of him only added to the amusement. He wasn't angry about it, he'd have a good laugh as well if he was in their place, and one of all these idiots were walking through the ship in black tights, red socks and a white shirt that ended several inches above his knees.

“Found anything?” he asked when they stepped into the elevator.

“A few things, all interesting, but not all of them are related to our case. Well...” She flinched, twisting her fingers as she searched for the right words.

“Just spit it out. All this was for nothing, right?” He pointed at his outfit, still deciding if he wanted to laugh or to growl.

“Not at all. It's just not our case anymore, I'm afraid.” She stared at the ceiling, sighing.

“What does that mean?” He already guessed the answer, there weren't many explanations for what could have happened since they had left Noveria.

“We got caught. Captain Crusher became suspicious,” she confirmed his assumption. “The length of the mission, Cerberus running wild on Noveria, Arek turned into a shadow of himself because of exhaustion, your injuries... all that didn't match with his idea of a stealth mission. That we messed with the com channels didn't help either. Amalthea thought it was wiser to let the dog out of the box, as the humans say.”

“Sure it's dogs?” A human had been his best friends over years, that had given Mojo his share of human idioms. There were too many for him to remember them all correctly.

“Don't know, isn't it always something about dogs with humans?”

“True. And what now?” he urged her on to continue the story.

“Now?” The elevator opened and they stepped outside, making room for two members of the navigator team. “Now Crusher is furious. He's been grilling Thea and Arek over the last hour. I joined them once the doc let me go, and was told to get you. If you replace 'told' with 'he shouted loud enough that I suspected you'd heard him yourself' you'll get the idea.”

“Wonderful.” To have the case, as Meyrani called it, taken away from him bothered him more than an angered captain. Especially human captains were nothing he feared. Some were good with words, like that Admiral Hackett, some were just loud. None of them were dangerous. He hadn't seen much of the captain since he had been on the ship, so it would be interesting to see what kind of preacher Crusher was.

Also, the prospect of a dishonorable discharge didn't scare him. If he was kicked out of the Alliance he'd return to his life as a freelancer, maybe back on Omega, or on another planet.

If that happened, fine, then he'd find a way to get his hand on Murakos by his own. However, he could imagine that Turner and the others felt differently about the matter.

“And yet you're chatting with the enemy instead of facing the consequences of our doings asap. Is one angry superior enough to shatter your bravery?” he couldn't resist teasing.

“First off, Mojo, you're a nuisance, not an enemy. You've proven that on Noveria for good, if you like it or not. And secondly, do you really want to face the Captain – and Arek – in this get-up?” She laughed as the door to their quarter slid open. “Get in and hurry, I'll wait here.”

“Afraid you might like too much what you see?”

“Oh, yes. Turian jerk covered in frostbites, always a turn-on.”

 


	13. The Sacrifice of a Scapegoat Nobody Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No action without consequences. The captain of the SSV Hamburg has a few things to say about the things he learned about the squad's doing, and he's not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same squad, on the same ship, another lecture. Let's hope it's the last one before this story turns into Mass Effect - High School Edition. Hope the whole preaching doesn't bore you, I promise that the next chapter will be a bit more interesting!
> 
> Artwork by [Blastedking](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/131024079818/last-but-definitely-not-least-this-force-of).

Captain Crusher interrupted his rant when the door to the briefing room slid open. The two turians entered and waited when the door closed behind them. The captain gestured them to come closer and pointed at the chairs standing at the wall. Mojo and Meyrani helped themselves with a chair and pulled them up next to their two squad mates, forming a half circle in front of the captain. Amalthea and Arek were standing, and still in their armor. The asari's demure smile looked tired, and Arek seemed to need all his remaining strength to not lay down on the floor and take a nap. As neither of the two had reported any injuries and had looked fitter than the turians after their arrival, Captain Crusher had seen no reason to make things more pleasant for them than necessary. As a matter of irony, Amalthea and Arek now seemed more worn out and beaten than Mojo and Meyrani.

Mojo shifted his weight, removing the pressure from his injured ribs. So he hadn’t only missed most of the heat thanks to their injuries but was granted more comfort. Mojo had changed into loose pants and thick, dark red sweater. He had kept on the socks the doctor had given him, and was hiding them in casual boots, all clean, all free from tears. The situation began more to feel like an annoying meeting than a hearing, and all he had to do was breaking a few bones and freeze half to death, so, things could be worse. There were upsides to everything if he squinted hard enough to see them.

“As glad as I am to see both of you back on your feet, do not think I'll give you a pass,” the captain began, half-guessing what was going on in Mojo’s mind. He was a man in his fifties, and hardly a fool. More than thirty years ago he had joined the Alliance, and his eyes had the look of a soldier who had served twice that time. Silver streaks had taken over most of his black hair and beard. He wore the scars and wrinkles of a man who had lived through his share of battles. Rumor had it he lost a finger on his right hand on board of the first Normandy – before it had been finished. He had been considered as a possible captain, but an explosion in the engine room during his inspection cost him the finger and the command over the ship, thanks to superstition. Aware that if he ever went down in history that this unfortunate incident would outshine his military achievements, Crusher would make sure that he didn’t offer the historians more stories to ridicule him.

“To sum what I heard from these two up, the following happened without my knowledge: One of you hacked into Omega's security channels.” Crusher was standing still with a straight back, his hands behind his back; his cold eyes wandered slowly from one face to the either, seizing each of the four up. “You got involved with the Kabale incident, but couldn't prevent what happened. Yet you were close enough to identify the killer. One of you possessed enough information about him to put yourselves on his trail. Next, you hacked into our system, manipulated the schedule and allotment for missions. Half of you ignored the orders – Turner and you, Mojo. You set out on a mission of your own. One almost got killed, the other is beyond exhausted, and both were almost lost in a snowstorm. As a side effect, you alerted Cerberus to our presence when all you had to do was to break in, copy the goods, and sneak out. Do you confirm the story?”

“Yes,” Meyrani answered shortly, and Mojo nodded. The captain's glare fixed on him. Mojo assumed he had done most of the math, and that he had also decided on who to put the blame on.

“I read over the information you've gathered before Noveria. Tolen Murakos is notorious for his involvement with Omega's organized crime, isn’t that right, Mojo.” The captain didn’t ask, he stated, leading the conversation into the direction Mojo had expected. He didn’t change his lax pose, a part of him regretting that his lack of a respectful posture could so easily be excused with his injuries.

“And as I worked on Omega for a few years I'd of course know him when I see him,” Mojo finished Crusher’s unspoken conclusion. “If you want to ask if I was the one who recognized him and insisted on investigating, the answer is yes.” Mojo stretched his legs and crossed his arms, not breaking eye contact with the captain. “And I'm sure you've already been informed that I blew the operation and didn't take him out when I could.” He shot a triumphant glare at Arek.

 _I'm not an idiot, I know how these games are played_ . _You fools are too easy to read._ He felt confirmed when the human's pale skin changed into a bright red, and turned back to Crusher, awaiting the sentence. Should they kick him out, he didn't care. As long as he didn't have to leave the ship while still in Noveria's orbit.

“Finally somebody gives me some details, and names.” A grim smile darkened the captain's face. He crossed his hands behind his back and started to walk up and down in front of them. “You're mistaken, Mojo. Whatever I tried, Mr. Turner insisted on taking the blame as a group, and Miss T’Koss insisted that she, as the leader, has to accept full responsibility on the squad's behalf. Thank you, Mojo, for bringing some light into this mess.”

Mojo forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Just great, now he owed the human an apology. That Turner wouldn't have hesitated a second to push any guilt away from himself, and shift it to him – he would have bet his pay on it. All of them were like this after all, weren't they? Well, that gave him something to think about later, now he had to deal with the consequences of ratting himself out to the captain.

Crusher turned his back to the squad and directed his attention to the screen in front of him. He opened a file, minimizing it so only he could read. Mojo had caught a glimpse of the top of the document – his name was written down there, it was the personal file about him.

“When the Armiger Legion answered our call for support by sending you, we expected an elite infiltrator. General Karrades even added a note, warmly recommending you as a unique asset to our forces. Unique. Can't say he lied.” He browsed through the pages.

“I requested more information about you after your first week. Something more than 'excellent sniper', 'outstanding infiltrator', 'surprisingly well-developed hacking skills'. How about 'overbearing', 'constant display of insubordination', 'lack of proper respect towards all ranks'? Or 'origins and past career unknown. Joined on recommendation through a turian General named Hesaurus. First registered connection under the name Mojo: Eclipse, Omega, eight years ago.'. Nothing is known before that. Does that sound familiar?” He closed the file and faced Mojo with a stern, merciless glare.

“It sure does, doesn't it?”

“I doubt that grinning is an appropriate reaction, Mojo.” Crusher’s face remained unchanged, with no hint of anger or amusement at the blatant provocation. “But it fits the picture. I'm sad to say, I fear your superior was taking our plea for help as an opportunity to get rid of you, and we fell for it. Your stunts were a disgrace to my ship before, but I decided to give you a chance, for the sake of your squad mates, and because I thought you were finally settling in after your return from Omega. Instead, I'm afraid, you've become a bad influence. I don't know why you spied on Omega's security, or how you hacked into our computers, but that your doings got innocent civilians killed are enough for me. I can't have you drag down three good soldiers. You'll leave my ship as soon as your injuries have healed. Until then, you’ll be confined to the med bay.”

“Good.” _Surprise, surprise._ So some things went as he expected, that he could still trust his instincts was comforting. It didn't matter. Three days, give or take, and he'd be after Murakos on his own. That should keep him occupied during the destruction of the galaxy. He wouldn't allow any reaper to snuff him out before he had delivered the promised shot between Murakos' eyes.

“Good? Nothing's good!”

Four heads jerked towards Arek. He had sprung between Crusher and Mojo. The sudden rush of energy blotched his face red, and for a moment, his tiredness was forgotten.  
  
“Mister Turner, if you have anything to add, do it quickly. I'd like to put the whole matter to an end.” Crusher's low voice warned him to not waste his time.

“It's not right. Sure, he is an ass, stubborn, and a damn rude idiot, but what happened on Omega was my fault,” Arek hurried to explain, ignoring the indignant grunt behind him.

Crusher sighed, pulling up one of the chairs, and sitting down the first time in more than three hours.

“Elaborate, please.” With the edge vanished from his tone, the captain sounded as tired as the Arek had looked a few seconds ago. This was an unforeseen turn of events, and while Mojo was surprised by Arek’s protest, he still had to debate with himself if Crusher was just in his decision to listen, or a pushover.

“If I hadn't stopped him – because of unwarranted distrust – he would have saved the family with one shot.” Arek kept it short and to the point, waiting for the captain to demand more detail.

“That's it?”

“No.” Arek glanced into Meyrani's direction, but she had already rose from her chair. “He didn't hack into Omega's systems, and it wasn't his idea for us to interfere with the hostage situation.”

“With all due respect, Captain Crusher, Arek is correct.” Meyrani stepped forward, surprising the captain and her squad mates alike with the hint of pride in her voice. “I started everything by spying on Omega’s security forces. I decided on my own accord to bypass their security systems, and to filter their transmissions for anything of use for us. Once I shared with the squad what I had learned, Mojo added valuable information of course, due to his knowledge of Omega, and also provided his skills from that point on. But he couldn't have hacked into the ship’s system. I can, and I did.”

“Miss Avilius! Are you telling me you are proud of breaking the rules?!”

“I'm telling you I'm proud of possessing the necessary skills. I cannot allow Mojo to be the only one to be hold responsible for the happenings if that means that my work is overlooked.”

 _Not bad kid, not bad at all._ Mojo nodded in appreciation. He was willing to acknowledge her knowledge and skills without hesitation, and being proud of that was something he could get behind. No, this girl wasn’t a snob, as she had proved more than once lately, and while it stung, he had to admit that not only her knowledge was admirable, but also her calm composure, especially in a situation like this.

“And I was aware of their plans and their doings.” Amalthea straightened her back, facing the captain with her chin lifted and her jaws set in a determined manner. “I encouraged them on Omega, and planned the mission on Noveria with them. As I said before, as the leader of the squad, I take full responsibility. I also like to add,” she looked at Mojo, a grin appearing on her serious face,”The questionable nature of our actions aside, Mojo had proven himself to be a valuable addition to the squad. I'm not in the position to judge his personality. However, when his skills were needed, he provided. As for me, I told him what to do based on Miss Avilius' suggestions, and he followed, adding to the work of the team. That cannot undo his actions of the past, of course. But with all due respect, I'd like to ask you to take my words into account when you make your final decision.”

 _Spoken like a leader. Smart move, acting like he hadn_ _’t spoken the last word yet. Guess now I have to thank you, too._ They could have made things a lot easier for them, by remaining silent, yet they decided to tell the truth. Mojo doubted that any of them had a desire to shield him from trouble, but as a consequence, he had to appreciate their sense of fairness which made them tell the truth, although it meant trouble for them. Or maybe it was foolishness - the result would decide about that at the end of the day.

“Wish I had anything cool to add.” Arek shrugged, giving Amalthea and Meyrani an admiring look. “All I can say is this – if I hadn't made a capital mistake on Omega he'd have been the hero of the day and nobody care how we got there. And if it weren't for him, Cerberus would have killed me. I'd be dead now. Guess that's my part of the story so far, being the fool and the damsel in distress.”

“Spirits, nobody likes people who're fishing for compliments, Turner,” Mojo groaned, staring at the ceiling. “You can tell them yourself that you stood alone against an army of Cerberus goons, and that we only got out there alive because you almost got yourself killed with your damn magic.”

“Goons that were an inch away from slicing me to bite-sized pieces, and my damn magic that I'd never have tried to use that way if _somebody_ hadn't encouraged me,” Arek shot back with a smirk.

“How often do I have to tell you that I didn't want to save or encourage you, but that I only needed you to get out of there alive?”

“By the Goddess, you two, get a room already.” Amalthea sighed while Meyrani commented the exchange with a low chuckle.

Mojo shut his mouth, turning his head away, his mandibles twitching. _Not you, too. Spirits, Turner, stop grinning! Forget what I thought before. You_ _’re Idiots! All of you!_ It was a blessing that the plates covering his face saved him from blushing.

Captain Crusher's face was twitching, and the hard look in his eyes was softened by reluctant amusement. He had worked with humans and aliens of different calibers for many years, and he had been lucky that his experiences led to the development of a subtle sense of humor instead of bitterness.

“So you're telling me, if I want to make a just decision, I have to fire all of you. Don't think that what you've done is less serious just because you all were involved in it. If anything, that makes things worse, because none of you, four experienced soldiers, thought it necessary to do the right thing and report what you know to me.” He returned to the large screen. After touching a few buttons the galaxy map appeared. They all looked at the familiar nebulas that formed the milky way. Some of them were colored in a red light – reported sightings of reapers in one or more of the solar systems.

“If the four of you only worked together as a team, on missions that need soldiers with your skills and your wit. Are you aware what's awaiting us? Why the galaxy needs us? Why those who lack in skill, wit, and military expertise need us? And here we are.” He closed the map, staring at the black screen. “I'm scolding you, like a group of children that had been caught smoking.”

The four of them were looking at his back. Amalthea muttered an apology, Arek and Meyrani lowered their heads, gazing at the floor.

Reapers. Mojo's company had fought through a horde of cannibals and husks before the Armiger Legion admitted him to the Alliance. That had been the only time he had seen one of the minor threats of the invasion that was slowly passing the threshold to the galaxy. He had seen recordings of reapers only on the news. They seemed so far away, abstract and surreal. Yet, chasing after one murderer felt unimportant, and he hated that. If he didn't get him, the reapers would. They would get all of them, good, evil, in between. But, if one fight didn't matter, which did?

“Mojo, I apologize for my wrong judgment of your character and your involvement. The discharge is canceled. And if I keep you, I have to keep all of you, I guess.” Crusher turned around, smiling. “So you guys can work as a team if you want. Do that for us in the future, instead behind my back. I'll let you know when I've decided on what to do about that Murakos case later. You can go now.”

“Thank you, sir!” Amalthea saluted, struggling to contain her relief. Meyrani paid a respectful nod, while Arek didn't try to hide his feelings about the outcome. He grinned all over his face, looking from one squad mate to the other. Mojo pushed himself up from his chair. His bruised back had stiffened from sitting in the same position for a longer time, and he had forgotten about his ribs. Pain shooting through his body reminded him quickly of his condition. The sooner he got more rest the better. Whatever he might have to say against working on an Alliance ship – the accommodations and medical facilities were excellent, beating what he was used to from Omega and the turian military.

“Thanks,” he heard himself mutter.

“Don't thank me. Thank the reapers. In any other war, your military careers would have ended today.”

 

 


	14. Good Night, Sleep Tight, But First...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Mojo, give it up, there chance of escape is slim, very slim. It's time this one turian learns a lesson about human stuborness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel bad that there's so much talking, then again, there's also much talking in ME, that makes me feel a little better.  
> Dear everyone, thanks for stopping by again, thanks for putting up with me, my English, and those dorks who needed 14 chapters to finally have a good(?) talk!

They didn't say a word after they left the briefing room. They had to walk through the war and communication room on their way back to the elevator. The positions were sparely filled, the night cycle was coming to an end and the early shift would soon take over. The few crew members present glanced at them and whispered as they walked by, but nobody talked to them or dared to ask questions. A look at their battered condition, and the fact that they had been summoned by the captain himself alone offered enough room for speculations, and none of them spoke of an easy day for the squad.

“I'm sorry that we hadn't been open with Crusher before you came, Mojo.” Amalthea had waited until they were back in the corridor, where nobody could overhear them easily. “Arek and I agreed that we wouldn't mention names without you and Meyrani present. I didn't expect him to single you out like that.”

“Wouldn't have blamed you if you did. That was your chance to get me kicked out of your happy circle”.

“That it was. How about not making us regret that we didn't take the opportunity?” The asari stopped at the intersection that parted the corridor – one way led to the elevator, the other to the bridge. She placed herself in front of Mojo, raising her hand to stop him from walking on.

“Listen. We didn't do too bad on Noveria. You and Arek didn't, and that already started on Omega. We ran out of luck when Cerberus showed up, that's all. And even then you two did a good job. I don't think we'll all be best friends at the end of the day, but dammit, Mojo. We just started to work as a team, and I think we could really be a damn good squad if we gave each other a last chance and get used to each other.”

“Nice speech. Do you really believe what you're preaching?”

“Yes.” She met his stare without flinching or blinking. Mojo noticed her calm expression, with only a hint of a frown. Her face mirrored the stubborn streak of her personality, but was free from hostility. She neither blushed nor did a muscle in her face or body twitch. If she was lying, she was doing a damn good job. He had seen and heard enough of her and her temper since he had been teamed up with her - Amalthea valued good work, success, and preferred a direct approach over sly and underhand ways. There existed worse characters, that were far more unpleasant to have around, and to work with. In spite of his own stubborness, Mojo began to believe her

“Fine, whatever.” He shrugged, and headed towards the elevator, the rest of the group following him.

“I think he wants to say 'Good to hear, I'll take you by your word'. If you don't mind me translating, Mojo.” Meyrani limped by his side, smirking at him.

“You got quite daring, kiddo. Or are you flirting with me?” They arrived at the elevator, and walked in. Mojo hit the button that would bring them to the floor with the crew quarters, the others didn't object. He glanced at the faces around him. All three of them looked tired and worn out. Arek seemed to be about to fall asleep while standing – he leaned against the wall, arms and legs crossed, eyes half closed. To see him not being in the mood for banter was rare, and refreshing. Although a bit boring, he had at least expected a shocked gasp, maybe even an attempt to jump to Meyrani's help and defend her honor.

“As flirting means, I'd have to put up with your personality – no. Sorry, Mojo.” She gave a laugh, while Arek and Amalthea looked at her in mild confusion.

“Is there something going on between you guys? Weren't you about to gut each other only a few days ago?” Amusing, how the asari asked the same questions like the human. Mojo smirked, leaving the answer to the female turian – if Meyrani didn't feel like explaining, good. Should they rack their brains over that riddle.

“We were, and it cleared the air. Sometimes you have to make it clear that you’re meaning business, and won't let another mistake slide,” Meyrani explained, stepping outside the elevator once it halted and opened.

“Kinda like a turian ritual for demanding respect?” Arek stifling a yawn that threatened to let his curiosity looked like boredom.

“Yes. And it isn't a hollow phrase or gesture. If one of us oversteps the other's boundaries again, there will be blood. All right, I'll leave here.” Meyrani stopped at the next intersection. “If I had to, I'd stay true to my word, of course. But I'm glad I don't. Two functioning turians are better than one functioning, and one dead. Anyone of you want to come with me to the mess? I'm starving.” The change of topic came too abruptly for Arek and Amalthea to ask any more questions, and Mojo had nothing he wanted to add himself. He had been impressed when Meyrani, who was more a girl than a woman in his eyes, had threatened him. She had also proven herself as smart and tough; he had been in the wrong when he judged her as spoiled and whiny because of her origin, age and girlish appearance. He didn’t need to provoke a ritual fight to see her as acceptable anymore to acknowledge that much.

“Not today, Rani. I hear my bed calling,” Arek said with a tired smile.

“And I need to get out of this thing, and a shower.” Amalthea stretched and tried to loosen the collar of her armor. “I'll come afterward, and join you if you're still there.”

“If you come, I'll have a cup of tea and wait for you. Mojo?”

“Bed.”

The two women left, one heading for the shower room, the other for the mess. Mojo continued his way to his quarters, Arek was on his heels. They reached the door to the human's shared quarters, and Mojo walked on.

“Wait.”

He stopped, turning around.

“When I said 'bed' I meant _my_ bed,” he snarled at Arek, who responded with a grin.

“Good one. No, it's not that. I'll leave it to you to agree to my idea, so don't worry, I won't harass you into anything.”

“Like you could.” If Arek thought a somewhat handsome face and one of his smiles he liked to throw around would be enough to get him interested he was mistaken. “What do you want?”

“You owe me an answer.” Persistent human. Mojo remembered their talk on Noveria, and he wasn’t delusional enough to hope that Arek had forgotten about it. Too bad for the human, Mojo didn't feel like talking now, and less like apologizing.

“Later. I'm tired. And you should sleep, too.” There would always be a reason for another later, and it was only a matter of time until Arek would finally give up and leave him alone. What did he plan to achieve anyway? He had saved the human's ass, they had worked together, they were still in the same squad and yes, Mojo had decided that it was wiser to play along during the missions. While he saw no reason to admit it aloud, his defiance had been childish. Old habits died hard, bad habits died harder. He’d correct his mistakes. What else did this guy want from him?

“You'll always find a later. No, Mojo, and if you worry about my sleep, you better spit it out, or I spent the next hours wide awake, brooding over why the hell you hate me that much.”

 _Are biotics now able to read minds?! Yo, human. You_ _’re small, pathetic, and your hair's weird, and that it’s a kinda nice color doesn’t help. And shave, by the Spirits! Besides, I wish I let the phantom kill you!_ He watched Arek's face for a moment for any change, but he only looked back at him with unchanged, determined curiosity. _Okay, I don't wish that it killed you. Better? Anything?_ _Of course not._

There was something about biotics that made him paranoid sometimes, and he almost laughed at his own silly notion. If Arek could read minds, he wouldn't have to pester him with so many annoying questions. So, all what there was left to do was to find the words to explain them.

“Nobody likes the popular kid,” he said, and, as though that explained it all, he turned back to his way to his quarter. He should have thought that Arek wouldn't let him get away that easily.

“What the hell, that doesn't even make sense! It's a contradiction of the very meaning of popular!” He hurried to catch up with Mojo, walking next to him, glaring up at him with a frown. Mojo opened his mouth, but clenched his jaws together, processing Arek's words.

“Damn, you're right!” he suddenly burst out, laughing. “Too bad, and I thought it was a good slogan.”

“A slogan for what?!”

“Labelling guys like you. But I guess that's still not enough for you? Why am I not surprised.” He chuckled when Arek rushed past him and planted himself into Mojo's way, his eyes glowing with blue biotic energy, his lips tightly pressed together.

“Fine, let me try again.” His tired mind wandered further back than he wished. He had met guys like Arek Turner before, and he had never enjoyed it. But the first time still stung the most, he refused to remember more about it.

“I know your kind. Not humanity, I mean guys like you. Always smiling, always playing best friend with everyone. Greedy, and never satisfied unless everybody falls to their feet and applauds as soon as you grace a room with your presence.” He was getting carried away as he spoke, clear words slurred into a sneer, his head tilted back, and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. His hand made a dismissive wave towards Arek.

“What the fuck, that's bullshit! Yes, I like it when others like me, but I don't want any standing ovations!” Color shot into Arek’s face, his clenched fists were shaking. The biotic glow vanished, leaving an odd mix of anger and sadness in the human’s eyes. Smiles could be faked, the sweet and friendly tone of a voice could be faked, as could gestures and, to a degree, body languages. Eyes were the only betrayers, in every face of every species. Mojo was forced to make his decision - either to pretend he didn’t see it so he could hold on to his truth, or to admit that this truths had been cracking over the last days, and was about to shatter. If only - if he only had had more time, a few more nights to sleep over all this. More time to get used to the idea that things were different than he had thought, that would have made things so much easier.

“You don't? Sure? And next you're telling me you also don't put up that 'Oh, I'm so fun and nice, nobody will ever suspect me of being an asshole’-act to hide your true nature, and that you're not the kind of guy that wouldn't hesitate to stab everyone around you in the back when it benefits you?” He bent towards Arek, glaring into his eyes, and poked the human's chest.

“Of course not!” Arek called out in desperation and slapped Mojo’s hand away, his face whiter than before. The spark of anger was gone from his eyes. For a moment, he looked year older. “I... I can't believe you think that I'd do anything like that. I haven't done or said anything to deserve that, have I? Yeah, I was rude to you, because you pissed me off! But I'm nothing, NOTHING, like what you said! You hear me? That's not me at all!”

“I know...” That was still easier than saying he was sorry. Mojo sighed, rubbing his neck and staring at the wall next to him. “I know,” he repeated, taking another deep breath. “Omega, then on Noveria... now with the captain... if I had been right, you'd... I'd have been kicked out of this ship after Omega, or died on Noveria before Crusher could have discharged me.”

“So... you’re changing your mind? Are you saying that you know that you’re wrong? Come on, Mojo, Rani isn’t here to translate! This would be a good time for your usual, direct way.” He had begun to yell, but quickly lowered his voice. The corridor was still empty, but so close to the end of a shift, it was only a matter of time before the doors opened - if their argument didn’t attract curious onlookers anyway.

“Honest mistake on my side. I'm... not always right.” The door to his quarter was so close, only a few steps and he could escape from this whole unpleasant conversation. However, he didn’t suffer in vain - the tension fell from Arek and there it was again, that smile that Arek so often wore that Mojo still found it difficult to believe it was always real.

“I'll take that as a sorry. But it’s really not something nice to hear, or to know that you thought about me like that all this time when it’s far from true. You really owe me, you know? How about a drink, later, when we had some sleep?”

Mojo recognized the metaphorical olive branch he was offered and took - less metaphorical - a step back.

“Don't misunderstand me, Turner. I was wrong about you being an asshole in disguise, yes. But I didn’t say anything about becoming friends. I still don't have much use for bubbly guys like you. You never stop talking, laughing, throwing yourself at others, jumping from conversation to conversation – so damn tiring.”

“Oh. You _really_ prefer being the dark, brooding loner, don't you?” Arek sounded so surprised as though he had just made a mind-altering discovery, that Mojo had to bite his own tongue, or he would have laughed out loudly.

“I prefer being in places where I can hear myself think.” Like on the roofs of Omega, above the noise, the corruption, and the filth. From where he could watch the world unfold in front of his eyes without having to be a part of it, unless he chose otherwise. The beautiful sight, the lights and the colors were a welcome bonus. He missed a place like that on the cruiser.

“But not necessarily alone, yes?”

“Yes.” He missed Kader, too, that damn son of a bitch. He hoped he was dead, served him right, after leaving Omega and breaking off all contact after a few emails; being dead would be an acceptable excuse. No, of course, Mojo hoped he was all right, but if he was, damn, then he would break every single bone of that bastard. Best friend, sure.

“Try to contact him, or find out if he's dead if it bothers you that much. Which it does.”

“What?” Mojo was pulled back to reality, needing a second to remember that he was standing in the corridor, a door between him and his bed, and a too curious human blocking his way. “You don't read minds, do you?” _Haha, very funny!_ He growled lowly in the back of his throat when Arek laughed.

“Nah, don't worry. Just an educated guess.” He grinned, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It was written all over your face that you were dwelling on the past, the rest was putting one and one together. And maybe,” Arek added with a chuckle, “I'm learning to read turian expressions after all.”

“About time.” Yes, he knew it was unfair to demand from humans, or most non-turian races, to learn about the subtle changes of a turian's face as quickly as turians learned to understand the body languages of humans. Especially humans like this Arek Turner were so easy to read, it was fun. He might as well announce his emotions, like an elcor. Now, that would really be amusing. Anyway, as wrong as he might have been about certain aspects about Arek's character – he was still right about one thing. Arek was shallow in more than one regard, and seemed to see it as a joke that he didn't bother to pay closer attention to the turians around him, even if he enjoyed their presence, like Meyrani's.

“Yeah, I know. Not my strongest virtue, but I'll try to better myself. For Rani, and if it helps you and me to get somewhat along, the better. Come on, Mojo, give me a chance. We can also have a drink in the mess, it's less crowded and noisy there.” Arek was stubborn in his desire to relax the negative tension between them, Mojo had to give him credit for that. He began to fear that he had to prove Arek that he really wasn't the kind of company he hoped for to get rid of him.

“Mojo! Oh, and Arek, too! What a surprise, to see the two of you chatting so amiably.” Neither Arek nor Mojo had heard the drell arrive. Barat nodded at the turian and greeted Arek with an elegant bow. He reached for the human's hand, but Arek crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Hello, Barat, nice to see you.” Arek's monotonous reply caught Mojo's attention. Strange, for somebody who behaved like everyone was his best friend, and probably hopped into bed with at least half of them.

“The pleasure is on my side. Had I know you were already back from Noveria I would have reminded you that you still owe me.”

“What do I owe you?” Arek took a step back, a lost expression on his face.

“To accept my invitation for dinner. I apologize, I did not wish to confuse you. Forgive me my harmless joke.” Barat gave a gentle laugh that almost convinced Mojo, if he didn't know him better. The drell was fun to talk to once in a while; there weren't many snipers on the ship, and Barat was one of the more skilled ones he had known. That made it enjoyable to exchange knowledge about rifles or to brag about their kills, but beyond that – unpleasant. Barat hadn’t given him any reason, but there was something about him Mojo didn't trust, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn’t a secret that the drell appreciated, well, certain superficial aspects about Turner, and he had mentioned that he planned to step up his game to charm the human. Arek didn't seem to all too excited about that, quite the opposite - he looked rather unsettled. Mojo could understand that, even if he couldn't explain why. Somehow, he guessed that 'because he's an asshole' wasn’t a reason for Arek to avoid somebody. It hadn't, after all, worked for Mojo to keep Arek away.

Well, he had to acknowledge that Arek seemed to have at least a few standards, and he couldn't deny the hint of glee he felt.

 _Too bad he doesn't care for your advances. Why don't you make a guess who he did offer to have sex with._ That, though, didn't change anything about what he thought about the idea.

“Well, it's okay. I’m sorry, I’m just tired today. Let's think about dinner another time, okay?” Arek had found his speech, and his smile looked almost convincing. Mojo was almost sorry for him, he assumed that the later-until-it's-forgotten-strategy wouldn't work well with Barat either.

“Time for me to go to bed. I'm glad things turned out well, Mojo. Let's talk later, yes?” Are grinned at the turian, and, finally, gave the way to the door free.

“Sure,” Mojo heard himself reply, groaning at himself. Talking without thinking wasn't a habit he wished to develop. He touched the lock and the door slid open.

“Hm, maybe I should take my chances and go after him. His hips lack the usual swing, a massage should help with that.” Barat chuckled after he followed Mojo inside.

“Let him be, he had a hard day.” _And he's not the only one._ He opened his locker and chose a shirt with short sleeves. The chill wasn't gone from his bones yet, but a comfortable warmth filled the well-heated room and the Alliance had provided races who preferred a warmer climate, like turians and drell, with thick duvets. Wearing a sweater when he went to bed wasn't necessary.

“You worry about him? You?! About Arek Turner? Did I hear that right, Mojo?” Barat shoved himself between Mojo and his locker. The turian ignored him – he steeped away and pulled the sweater over his head.

“Oh dear, those are some nasty frostbites on your arms. And is that a bullet wound? And your ribs! Not your lucky day, huh?” The drell followed him, pressing his slightly moist fingertip on the bandage covering Mojo's shoulder.

“You have no idea how lucky.” _And I'm not going to tell you. Spirits, I swear! If he doesn't fuck off I'll drown him in the kitchen sink at the earliest opportunity!_ He regretted that he had ever agreed on sharing a drink or two with Barat. He was the kind of guy Mojo only endured under specific circumstances, and being exhausted and hurting wasn't one of those.

“Really? Sounds like a good story to tell. Share it with me over a drink! Later, of course.” Barak chuckled, moving over to his own locker and opening it. He took out his rifle, a widow. Nice looking weapon, sweet damage, but too heavy for Mojo's taste, and too slow. Why taking out one target and reload if he could take out up to six targets in the meantime? Barat still doubted that Mojo could do that, but the turian assumed that he would also refuse to believe it if he saw it with his own eyes. The drell only enjoyed Mojo's company because he was convinced to be the better sniper, Mojo was aware of that. If he took that guy serious it would anger him. As it was, to him, this drell was a clown, a pretender, with his big stories and fancy way to talk.

If he had to choose his company for 24 hours, he would prefer his other room mate, the second drell that Arek liked to hang out with so often. That chatterbox and gossip would drive him insane within minutes, but at least that guy didn't put up any airs and graces. Simple and annoying over fake, pretentious and annoying anytime.

“Maybe.” He tossed the sweater into his locker and closed the door before it fell out again. Barat gave a woeful sigh, polishing the barrel of his widow with the sleeve of his coat.

“My second rejection in less than 10 minutes. Although Arek's hurt my tender heart more. Say, Mojo, do I have to regard you as my rival? You are aware that I fancy the human.” The sweet, amused gentleness was gone from the drell's voice, leaving it harsh and creaking. “I do not value competition in such a matter. If you want to challenge me, keep to headshots and stories from the battlefield.”

Mojo found himself caught between the temptation to strangle Barat, or to shove Arek's suggestion into his face. Well, he could do both – but decided on laughing it off and climbing up the ladder to his bed.

“I don't see any ground for competition. Good night.” _Take that like you want._ He fell into his bed and reached for his data pad from underneath one of his pillows, wondering if he should watch the news or a movie while falling asleep.

“Of course there isn't, you hate each other's guts. Or so I hope.” Barat chuckled. The slick sweetness was back as though it had never been gone. “Well, there's always a tomorrow, and always a chance for a dinner for two. Now excuse me, my friend. I have a hammer swinging krogan to impress with my skill and my weapon.”

“Whatever.” _Just fuck off!_ Mojo closed the curtain of his bed, welcoming the dark and silence that surrounded him the second he was separated from the rest of the quarter. He activated the data pad, browsing through his selection of movies while he made himself comfortable. Spirits, if he hated anyone's guts right now, then it were Barat's. That vain snob hadn't spoken that frankly about his interest in Arek before, and Mojo was irritated that it bothered him. He had forgotten for a moment that a krogan had indeed joined the third squad, shortly after they had left Omega, and during that moment, he had suspected Barat of wiping up a quick lie, to cover up for other intentions. Then, to his relief, he remembered the krogan – of course Barat wouldn't miss the chance to brag to a warlord about his qualities as a sniper. Good. If the drell found a new drinking buddy – better! Whoever Barat decides to annoy wasn't any of Mojo's business. On the other hand, nothing was. He had better things to do, like deciding on a movie.

 _Besides, he's a biotic. When he can take care of himself against troopers and dragoons, he can fight off a damn_ _horny_ _drell._ The screen flickered in front of his closing eyes. He should turn up the volume if he wanted to hear what was happening, but before he made up his mind if it really mattered, he had fallen asleep.


	15. A Jolly Breakfast Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does a poor, tortured turian soul have to do to enjoy a meal in peace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmaaas! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and a good time to everyone*!
> 
> (pick up to three choices as they apply to you)

Mojo raised his head, his green eyes glowering. A low growl rolled in the back of his throat. He rammed the fork into the piece of meat on his plate, lifted it, and tore a bite off. Slowly chewing, he lowered his mandibles, baring his sharp teeth. The man with the tray in his hand sidestepped away from Mojo’s table and steered towards one that was already occupied. With an apologetic grin, he squeezed himself between two other crew members. Mojo held back a chuckle, then bit his tongue to fight down a cough when his food went the wrong way.

The mess was a busy place at every hour. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were offered around the clock to accommodate the different shifts of crew and squad members, and there was always someone in the need of coffee. Like the bar in the lounge, the mess was the place to go to find company, with less alcohol but more food involved.

Mojo took another bite. He had eaten worse - while the meat was too well done for his taste and lacked spices he was glad it was, well, meat. Only a few turians were on board, and so far he had seen one quarian, and all of them were lucky that the kitchen added real dextro food to the menu. A piece of meat tough and dry as leather was better than a diet of vitamin-enriched liquids and protein pastes. No, he saw no reason to complain about the food on board of an Alliance - human-centered - ship. If he had to complain, it would be about the noise.

Tired faces smiled over their dinner, lively ones, refreshed from their sleep and a shower enjoyed a good chat along with their bacon and eggs. It was funny, many levo dishes didn’t look much different from what Mojo knew from his home. Yet, he didn’t even want to imagine the taste when a scent that reminded him of Omega’s sewers crept into his nose. He held his breath, but the smell didn’t pass.

 

“Morning, Mojo!”

Mojo sighed, tearing his eyes away from the group of humans he had been observing. After defending his table for the last half of an hour, his peaceful solitude was destroyed by - Arek, of course. With one of his wide grins on his face, Arek sat down, placing a tray in front of him. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a small bowl with a weird grey sludge.

“It’s porridge. Healthy, filling, sweet. Wanna try?” Arek shoved the tablet towards Mojo, also offering him a spoon.

“I don’t think I could digest that if it was dextro. Spirits, keep that away from me!” He turned his head away, slowly exhaling, waiting a moment before he dared to breathe again. He was one of the more fortunate individuals of his race who didn’t become sick, but he couldn’t stand the smell of cooked levo food. There were a few levo dishes that didn’t taste like anything to him - or with even a tolerable taste - but even in those rare cases the scent alone made him sick. His brain and stomach dealt better with food that smelled and tasted horrible, than the contradiction of flavorless or acceptable food coming with a revolting stench.

“Why don’t you have a seat and keep me company.” He put down his fork and pushed his plate away. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair, glaring at the human.

“You’re pulling the sarcasm card a bit late.” Not in the least flustered, Arek was shoveling the sludge into his mouth. “You’re really missing out here. It’s Tanya’s shift, and she’s making a damn good porridge. The others never get the texture right, and Tidus always adds too much salt. A pinch, to enhance the flavor, I told him, not half a pound!”

Mojo sighed, poking the remains of his dish with the fork. He had slept in far too long, and after skipping dinner the night before he had been starving by the time he climbed out of his bed. After wasting his time in the sickbay while Dr. Wilson had insisted on repeating his whole lecture from the day before, a simple breakfast hadn’t sounded satisfying. So he had requested dinner instead and enjoyed his meal in his own fashion. He should have guessed it wouldn’t last, things had been too smooth.

“Not much of a talker after getting up, eh?” Arek had finished his bowl and took a hearty bite from his toast, scattering crumbs across the table.

“Have I ever looked like much of a talker, anytime?” In spite of himself, Mojo smirked at the notion that anyone who knew him would expect him to be interested in a lively conversation.

“Nope. Can you tell me if you were criticizing me, or joking about yourself?”

“Read it from my face.” Sometimes, Arek was making it too easy for him to tease him, it was boring - almost. Seeing him blush and squirm when confronted with his shortcomings never got old.

“That’s fair and unfair at the same time,” Arek sighed. He shoved his chair closer to the table, and leaned over his plate, and Mojo realized that his taunt backfired. He fought the impulse to jump up and leave, Palaven would freeze over before he lost this little game to this human. He held still, feeling his mandibles twitching while Arek kept staring at his face, searching it for changes and movement. Mojo refused to return the watching gaze, and pride forbade him to turn his head away. Somebody from the table behind Arek stood up, and Mojo took that as a welcome excuse to study that person’s back. The impatient tapping on the top of the table irritated him. He was ready to snap at Arek when he realized it was the tips of his own short, but pointy claws. He clenched his fingers into a fist, relaxed them, and grabbed the glass of water that was standing on his tray.

“Damn, there’s a lot going on! I never noticed! I always thought only those things at the sides could move, but I was wrong.” Arek pointed at the plates above the turian’s eyes. “They move and twitch, almost like eyebrows, guess that’s why it’s so easy to tell that you’re frowning at me right now.” Grinning with satisfaction, Arek picked up his coffee mug, wrapping both his hands around it. “Before that, your nose twitched a bit, not sure what it means, though, but it’s kinda cute.”

 _Cute?!_ Mojo slammed the glass down on the table, the water spilling over the rim and his hand.

“There!” Arek chuckled, taking a slow sip of coffee, enjoying the situation without a doubt. “You just did it again. Say, does that only happen when you’re irritated? Would be a waste.”

Mojo wiped his hand dry on his shirt, hissing a curse that escaped the translator. He was grateful that the plating and his dark skin didn’t give away how the blood was shooting up his face. He had never understood how humans could live with the knowledge that their faces gave their emotions away so easily. Sure, he had met more than a few that were in control over some of their muscles, but, like eyes, the skin of humans never lied. There was a soft, pink glow on Arek’s face and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Even without the grin, Mojo would have known that this human was amusing himself tremendously, on his, Mojo’s, expense. Worse, he couldn’t blame him, he had picked on Arek about his inability to interpret turian faces and accused him of being shallow so often, it had to backfire one day.

“Is there a reason why you’re noticing that _now?_ You’ve been best buddies with the kid since day one, how about staring at _her_ face?” The battle wasn’t lost yet just because the human won an insignificant fight.

“No idea if that’s different for turians, but among humans, staring at other people’s faces is pretty impolite. Didn’t want to offend her.” Without a worry in the world, let alone a hint of guilt, Arek enjoyed his coffee.

“Oh, _Thank you._ ” The nerve!

“Hey, _you_ said I should read it from your face.” Leaning back, his head tilted and flashing another smile, Arek was well aware of his second victory. He generously waved the hand with the mug, declaring the battle over and changed the topic. “But that aside. Don’t you think it’s about time you use her name? She’s young, yeah, but I can’t say Rani’s acting like a kid at all.”

Mojo was turning the half-empty glass between his thumb and two fingers, tracing a drop with a fingertip. Water was fascinating. The only thing in the known galaxy that was the same everywhere. Levo, dextro, it didn’t matter. They all needed the same kind of water, with the same taste to everyone, to survive. He glanced at the steam spiraling from Arek’s mug.

 _By the spirits, I_ _’d kill for a good coffee._ It was a shame that levo coffee was so damn sweet to his tongue, and while the kitchen did an okay job with meat and most vegetables, their dextro coffee was an insult to his tongue. Too thin, and the last time he had given it a chance, too bitter, minus any other flavor - as it was bound to happen when someone with no knowledge about good coffee was in charge of selecting coffee powder. If he had the power to wish Omega to hell, he’d spare that one thrift store. Old, broken parts, scrap metal, nothing of interest, but the owner, a quarian whose pilgrimage had ended between crime and trash, brewed a coffee he’d kill for. Someone once did, that day two unlucky goons tried to rob the store while a trio of Eclipse mercs was haggling with the quarian while enjoying her coffee.

“Mojo?”

Mojo snapped out of his thoughts, lost for a moment - why was he still in the mess, why was Arek sitting across the table and calmly watching him? Ah, yes. That had been the reason why he tried to think of something else in the first place, to forget about the curious gaze that made him self-conscious about the movements in his own face.

“The kid, yeah. A habit, she’s young,” he tried to recover the thread of the conversation. “You’re right, though, she’s mature for her age, no doubt. Smart kid, very smart.”

“You sound like a grandpa when talking like that. That,” Arek chuckled, putting down his mug, and pointing at Mojo with a knowing grin. “Or you know turians of that age that aren’t that mature. Or - weren’t. When they used to be 19, instead of the, what was it, 32 years they’re now.”

“31, and no, you couldn’t be more wrong.” His mandibles twitched, and to his annoyance, his nose, too. _Dammit, how long will it take until I stop paying attention to my own damn face after this?!_ He had enough. He put his plate and glass on the tray and rose from his chair. It was time to find something useful to do with what was left over from this day. With the retrieved data taken from them, their investigation had come to an untimely end. The doc had forbidden any visits to the gym for at least two more days, and as it made sense, Mojo had decided to listen to him.

“Hard to believe when you’re chuckling.” Arek had gulped down the rest of his coffee and hurried to stand up as well. “So, tell me. What mess did the great Mojo cause when he was tender 19 years old?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

They returned their trays to the kitchen crew. Their table was occupied by new arrivals when they walked past it. The steady pulse of the mess rarely changed, the atmosphere was as lively and as filled with chatter as it had been when Mojo came here. The automatic door closed behind them once they left, and the sudden silence hit them like a wall. Mojo needed a few seconds to adjust to the ever present humming and to distinguish it from single crew members walking down the corridors. The lights were brighter than inside the mess, where the gentle, yellow light resembled actual daylight. Sometimes, it was too easy to forget that the concept of day and night didn’t matter on a space ship, and was only a helpful tool to keep live on board organized.

 

“So, any plans? Going back to sleep?” Arek was walking by his side and stopped when they reached the turian’s quarter. Mojo didn’t have any place in particular in mind, so his steps had led him back here. There was nothing official to do for them today, except filling their reports, and that could wait until later. He didn’t feel sleepy, or in the mood to go back to his bed and watch a movie or read, now that he was up and fed.

“Nah. Guess I’ll practice some shooting.” He shrugged. There wasn’t much else to do for him, and handling his rifle was as relaxing to his mind as an hour of good sleep to his body. He looked down at the human. Arek was thinking of an answer, with his head crooked, a slight frown on his face.

“Mind you, Turner, while you are in desperate need of more practice, there’s no reason for you to come with me. We’re not friends. Go and enjoy your free time with your playmates.” His shoulders dropped with the last words spoken. Arek’s eyes turned sad, and a shadow of defeat fell over his face. He didn’t like that. When Arek was his cheerful self, he could sneer at him, if he was angry, they could have a fight. He didn’t know what to make of this kind of expression.

“Say whatever you want to say,” Mojo sighed, giving up to find the right thing to say. He could have gone away, and leave him standing where he was, but that hadn’t come to his mind until now, and now was too late.

“Why do you fight the idea of us becoming friends?” Arek looked up at him, facing him with grim stubbornness. There, that was more to Mojo’s liking. Arek took a deep breath and continued, “See, we thought the worst of each other, and figured we were stupid. All I say is, let’s start over, and well if we still can’t stand each other, fine. But I really want to see if we can get along. What’s so bad about that?”

 _That one likes, the other dislikes, ever thought about that?_ No, that wasn’t the problem, that was all wrong. Mojo admitted that, with his former misconception gone, he could see why Arek had many friends and certain kind of friends for certain benefits. There were a few things about humans that he liked, even favored over his own species, some physical features to be precise - he aborted the thought.

“Nothing, probably. Just don’t force it.” If he considered a friendship because he appreciated a few superficial aspects, his moral standards wouldn’t be any better than Arek’s. The bottom line was, this human was still loud, still annoying, and flippant as a butterfly. If he wanted to he probably could find something likable about him, but he didn’t see a reason why. The way he was, the way Arek was, a friendship wouldn’t work, and trying was a waste of time.

“Guess you’re right. And yeah, gotta say, I’m really not in the mood to waste a free day at the shooting range,” Arek laughed, the frown was gone, as was the hint of sadness. “Lunch, later?”

“If we happen to be there at the same time, sure.” _See, just as I thought. Back to all happy and sunshine within seconds. Butterfly._ Well, as long as he wasn’t forced to organize his free time around Arek, it wouldn’t hurt when he didn’t go out of his way to avoid him if their paths crossed. For now, Arek seemed satisfied - he smiled, nodded, and most importantly - he was willing to leave Mojo alone and to return to his own quarter. Mojo looked after him for a moment. So this human wasn’t the enemy he had thought him to be. Also, he wasn’t his friend or someone who was cut to be the kind of friend Mojo liked to have around. Or the kind of guy who would voluntarily endure Mojo the way he was. He growled in frustration over himself, he was putting more attention into this whole thing than it was worth, and who put attention into something, noticed things.

“Turner.”

Arek stopped, turning around with a puzzled face.

“You’re limping, more than yesterday.”

“I do?” He looked down, stretching one leg, and patted his upper leg. “That one dragoon got me there, guess the scratch will need another day to heal.” He forced the flinch away with a grin and shrugged the matter off.

“Didn’t the doc check it?”

“Nope. He was busy with you, then Rani, then Crusher called and after that, my bed. Thought it’s the best if I just leave it alone.”

Mojo rolled his eyes and gestured him to come back. Not less puzzled, Arek walked back to the turian. He tried to conceal the pain in his legs, but Mojo didn’t miss how Arek pressed his lips together as he moved.

“And now?”

Mojo didn’t answer. He knelt down, and his hands clenched around Arek’s upper legs, giving them a hearty squeeze. Arek cried out, jumping back.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Too firm, too warm. Go to the doc before the infection eats your flesh away.” Mojo stood up, turned around, and opened the door to his quarter. It was about time he got his Viper and finally did some shooting.

“You’re worrying,” Arek stated behind him; Mojo didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning.

“You’re useless when you can’t bounce around in combat, that’s all.” He hurried inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to hear an answer, or to go through the endless cycle of dodging assumptions that provoked new assumptions again.

“Wasn’t that Arek?” Barat was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He had dismantled his rifle, a Widow. The parts were scattered on the table, around his resting feet. Three or four were lying on his lap. He was lazily cleaning another one with a soft cloth.

Mojo gave a grunt in place of a reply and headed for his locker. He stretched, opened it, looked thoughtfully inside. If he returned to the corridor too soon, he feared he’d run again into Arek. He glanced at the door, half expecting it to open and Arek following him.

“You should’ve invited him inside,” Barat whistled, looking through a part of the barrel. “I’d have been delighted to share a conversation with him. What a puzzle, that you can’t see what a charming young man he is. And his hair, such a pretty color.”

“It’s red. That’s all.” A pretty, rich red he hadn’t seen before, and Barat was going on his nerves with his infatuation. “Why don’t you- forget it.” Mojo held his tongue. Asking Barat to tell him once he figured out if red hair felt different to touch than dark or blond hair would rise unwanted questions. He grabbed his Viper and stomped out of the room, and finally down to the shooting range - the obviously only place left on this damn ship where he wouldn’t be confronted with Arek, or people talking about him.


	16. A Chapter Full of Scheeming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As expected, the captain's strict warning didn't stop a certain squad from further investigations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> Do you know this feeling, when you're tired, but don't want to be tired? Isn't that the best state of mind to try correcting a chapter? Oh dear, I hope I didn't make it worse and regret the upload in the morning :D
> 
> That aside - Best Wishes to All of You! You guys showing up and giving this fic a chance is one of the best things that happened to me in 2015, and I'm looking forward to keep writing this story - and getting better doing so - for you.

The last few hours had been so nice. Not many others had felt like shooting today, and Mojo had been delighted to have the shooting range to himself most of the time. Noveria had punched a dent into his confidence. On Omega he had made a name for himself as an expert sniper. That reputation - and quick thinking when it counted - had paved the way that led him to the Armiger Legion, and from there… to the Alliance and finally to that forsaken ice planet that almost killed him, and, worse, let him look useless at what he had always considered being his best skill.

Today, he needed a reminder of what he was good at. He hadn’t wasted his time with practice rounds on static targets, but selected a harder difficulty, and quickly went to the hardest difficulty - moving targets, fully points awarded only when the tiny bull’s eye was hit within a short time frame. It had felt good to fire his weapon, even when it wasn’t in a fight. The sound of the rifle firing, the recoil, the dull thump when the practice ammunition hit the artificial creatures - yes, he had needed that. Now he was looking forward to another mission where he could prove his skill during combat, well, as long as there wasn’t another snow storm.

He sighed. He had hardly locked the Viper away when a call reached him. Amalthea, who asked to meet her and the others, to talk about something concerning the last mission. That was all or all she had dared to say, he assumed, in case somebody listened. Yet, if she feared somebody would overhear their conversation, then he could only wonder about her decision to meet in the lounge. Or, maybe, he was mistaken, and her call had another reason. The mystery could have been solved more than 20 minutes ago if she opened her mouth and started talking already. He prayed to the Spirits that this hadn’t been a trick to lure him to some kind of squad party.

“So, what was it again why we’re here?” He shifted on his seat. Amalthea had already been waiting when he arrived, sitting on one of the sofas with a wide, satisfied smile. He had no idea how she had managed to keep both sofas free, but he could imagine a scenario or two, and both involved more of her krogan than of her asari blood. Too bad, he would have liked to watch her biting away the poor fools who tried to cross her. Maybe she could give him some pointers how to scare humans away, especially pesky redheads who wouldn’t stop acting like it was their fate to be friends.

“We’ll talk once Arek is here, as I’ve told you the last three times you asked.”

“Five times,” Meyrani corrected. She was sitting on the opposite sofa, a laptop resting on her crossed legs. She had been smirking at the screen since she had opened the computer; as much as Mojo hated to admit it, he was curious about what amused her so much, and if it had anything to do with the reason why they were here. Well, he could have asked her, but he didn’t saw the point. If it was relevant, he’d hear it soon enough, if not, he wouldn’t receive an answer. He looked around, past the few faces that walked through the room, that stopped to exchange a greeting, continue their round or joined a group of other faces. It wasn’t as crowded here as the mess had been earlier today, it should be easy to spot a pale redhead with a too wide grin. The irony that he was hoping for the one person to show up that he wanted to avoid deserved another drink. He raised, headed for the bar and asked the barkeeper for another glass of turian ale, the better stuff from Palaven. The barkeeper nodded, and refilled his glass without a word. A pleasant guy never forced a conversation on him or bothered him with inappropriate curiosity. Mojo took his drink and returned to his two squad mates. His ribs ached when he let himself fall back onto his spot on the sofa, but he shut the pain up with a long draft from his ale. There were many things he had to say about Palaven, especially turians from Palaven. Even more precise - a lot of bad things. Arrogant, snobbish bastards, who considered themselves to be some kind of queen race, far above other species and turians from the colonies. But they had some fine breweries, he had to give them that.

“Finally,” he muttered into his drink. Arek stepped through the door, a smile on his face and still limping, but not as badly as before as Mojo noticed. He suspected that it would take Arek’s legs to fall off before he wouldn’t smile or grin.

“Sorry, I was at the med bay when your call came, and the doc wouldn’t let me go sooner.” Arek sat down by Meyrani’s side.

“They kept you for hours? Because of a few cuts?”

“Nah. I, well… I went there just a bit ago, after hanging out with Kalron.” Arek tilted his head, giving Mojo a mischievous grin.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Keep the smooth talking for later, boys. Arek, is everything okay? Anything that Mojo knows and that I should know?” With a stern look, Amalthea put her wine glass on the table between them. Arek shook his head.

“Just a flesh wound I got when Cerberus tried to mess with me. I’ll be as good as new in a day or two. Gimme another moment, I’ll get myself a drink.” He was about to stand up when Mojo gestured him to stay where he was.

“You can drink later. The sooner our Miss Leader spits out why we’re here, the sooner we can be done with it.”

Arek hesitated, looking at Amalthea, who shrugged. Shrugging as well he sat down again, very much to Mojo’s satisfaction. The end of the recent shift was coming closer, and he wanted to be out of here before the next wave of crew members streamed into the lounge.

“It’s about Cerberus, as you all probably have guessed already,” Amalthea began. “And don’t worry, Mojo, this won’t fill the evening, but I didn’t want to send a traceable message.” Mojo nodded. Yes, that made sense. There was a good chance that Crusher had given the order to keep a closer eye on their omni-tools, and on the messages they exchanged. He doubted that they’d spy on everything they did, humans were too crazy about respecting privacy, even when it was related to work. But short messages, shared between the four of them, containing certain keywords should be enough to raise some suspicions. It was just like her, doing everything to avoid clashing with her superiors. However, Mojo was relieved that they weren’t done with Cerberus’ involvement in the incident on Omega yet.

“You think it’s wise to talk about that _here?_ People here smell gossip quicker than a varran sniffs blood.” He glanced at two female humans who strolled past their small group, chatting, and sending a wink and a smile at Arek, who waved back at them. Mojo rolled his eyes; was there anyone except him left on the ship who wasn’t best friends with this guy? Barat came to his mind, but the drell didn’t count, as it was Arek’s choice to avoid him. A good choice, Mojo acknowledged. A picture flashed up in his mind, of Barat, trying again to get closer to an Arek who wasn’t so unwilling - Mojo poured the rest of his drink into his mouth. The glee he felt was ridiculous, the thought that Arek would rather… that Arek rather approached him than Barat, who so obviously hit on him, amused him far too much.

“And that’s why,” Amalthea finished.

“What?” Damn, his mind had been wandering, and he hadn’t heard one word of Amalthea’s reply. The asari groaned and fell back into the cushions.

“I said, if we met somewhere alone, with no one around, it would raise suspicion, but nobody would suspect us to talk about something we shouldn’t in a setting like this. Got it now? Meyrani, fill them in, I’ll get another drink.” She stood up and left the three alone. Meyrani lifted her head for the first time since she had arrived, still that smirk on her face.

“It’s really not much, and won’t solve the big mystery.” She typed on her computer. Arek stretched his neck, trying to peek on the screen, but she closed the laptop and shot a glare at him that Arek understood without trouble - he muttered an apology and moved a few inches away from her.

“I don’t have any of the data you guys retrieved. Yet. But I got a bit of information about Price’s involvement with Dinra and Omega. Do you remember?”

“Dinra, asari, involved with the Eclipse on Omega,” Arek recited, his head tilted back, his eyes towards the ceiling as he searched his memory. “And Boris Price, human, involvement with Cerberus, and Dinra, right?” He beamed all over his face when Meyrani nodded. Amalthea returned, with a glass of wine and a bottle of beer that she offered Arek, who gladly excepted.

“Did you get to it already?” she asked while returning to her place.

“No, only rehearsing so far. Anyway, we were onto something. We do know that Dinra once had ties with the Eclipse on Omega, and so did Murakos. So far that wasn’t proof for anything. Here’s what’s new.” She put her laptop on the table, moving closer to the edge of her seat. Her hand stroke over the black case of the computer while she spoke with a lowered voice. The others moved closer to her. Mojo looked around. When he was sure that nobody was close enough to listen he leaned in as well.

“The Eclipse cut ties with Dinra three years ago, a few month after Murakos had left the Eclipse. Around that time, a contact of Price was busy on Omega. He changed his names a few times, even while he was there, the last he used was Hermes.”

“A human?” Arek put down his beer. “Hermes is a figure in Greek mythology, from Earth. He was the messenger of the Gods,” he explained, but Meyrani shook her head.

“Turian.”

“Why would a turian use a name from Greek mythology, and why would he work with Cerberus?”

“We don’t know yet, Arek, but there’s more. About two years ago, Hermes and Dinra disappeared from Omega. In the year before, not only Murakos left the Eclipse. Within four months, before they left, seven more Eclipse members disappeared overnight. And five more closely associated with the Blue Suns, and more than a dozen from the Blood Pack.”

“Sounds like a lot,” Mojo interrupted, “But gang members come and go. Some quit, some are liquidated, some shoot each other over nothing, or just run away, back home.”

“You’re right of course, but this is different. They disappeared without _any_ traces, no hints, no bodies, nothing. And I’m not finished.” She put her computer back on her lap, holding onto it when she leaned back. “Those numbers I mentioned have something in common, with around 120 more citizens who left Omega around that time. Civilians, security…”

“Get to the point, kid.”

“Turians. They’re all turians.” Meyrani and Amalthea watched the faces of the two men while the news was sinking in. Amalthea was sipping on her drink, while Meyrani’s fingers glided along the frame of her laptop, as though she had to withstand the urge to open it again. Arek and Mojo exchanged a look.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not one of them. Just because I-”

“Geez, Mojo, stop it already.” Arek glared at him, his cheeks crimson, but with genuine anger, not guilt, if Mojo wasn’t mistaken. “I know you left Omega to join that turian special army unit, and that you were promoted from there to join us because you pissed off too many guys around you. That’s not what I’d call ‘disappearing without a trace’.”

“Sorry. What are you staring at me?” He growled at the two women who looked at him in surprised amusement. “What’s the rest of the story?”

Amalthea hid her smile behind her glass, while Meyrani smirked openly at him when she continued, “There’s not much more yet. To sum it up, we suspected that Murakos might have been involved with Dinra and/or Boris Price, who are involved with gang affairs and Cerberus. New is, that a turian who called himself Hermes is or was involved with Price, and that, when his stay on Omega came to an end, at least 125 turians disappeared.

“Do you think they were killed?” Arek asked. The color was gone from his face, the frown was still there.

“That’s possibility, but unlikely if we count Murakos as one of them, and he was quite alive a few days ago.” Meyrani shook her head and raised her chin.

“I think they joined something or someone.”

“It sounds strange, turians joining Cerberus.” Amalthea had crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fingers of her right hand tapping on her left upper arm. “Or any organization that somehow is linked to Cerberus activity. Of course all this might be a coincidence, we’re still more following a hunch here than facts. Well, that’s all we have, for now.”

“What do you mean, that’s all?” Mojo jumped up, but Amalthea gestured him to calm down, casting a quick look to their left. The lounge had filled with another handful of crew members. They had steered towards the bar and hearing Mojo flare up promised the right kind of entertaining to go well with their colorful drinks. Mojo got the hint and sat down.

“You throw a conspiracy theory on the table like a bone in front of a starving vorcha, and that’s all? Where did you get these number from, kid? The names? We didn’t find anything like that when we were searching for it!”

“I have a reliable source, let’s leave it at that.” She patted the laptop, but her voice was cold, and the smile was gone. She wasn’t kidding - if he wanted to learn more, Mojo would have to beat it out of her. A mysterious source she didn’t wish to talk about, interesting.

“So this thing is getting bigger and weirder.” Arek stared thoughtfully at his empty bottle, his hands clenching the fabric of his pants where they covered his injury. “What are we gonna do now?”

“That’s what I want to ask you.” Amalthea’s voice was serious as she spoke. “Our hands are tied. If we do any more solo runs we’ll lose our jobs, and when we have to leave the ship, we lose our mobility and resources. The question is - do we want to do this for our ego, or to stop whatever is going on? What is our priority?”

“To stop whatever is going on, of course! It’s the right thing!” Arek’s back straightened as he answered with confident passion.

“And when the right thing is our priority, you’re going to Crusher,” Mojo stated. Amalthea and Meyrani nodded.

“That’s correct. But I want to hear what you have to say. I want to convince him to give us access to the stolen data, and that the case will be returned to us, or that we’ll at least be allowed to help to work on it. Yet, there’s still a chance that we’ll get in more trouble if I talk to him. I’ll only do it when you all agree that it’s the right thing to do. We either do that and risk to be hung together, or forget about the whole thing. These are our only options.”

Mojo saw a third option - working on this on their own, all risks included. For that, they needed the data they had stolen from Cerberus. He saw no reason why they wouldn’t be able to do it again, this time from the Alliance. If they followed that idea, however, they’d lose everything else, as Amalthea had said. No, he wrapped up the plan and pushed it out of his mind. The possible benefits didn’t outweigh the certain losses.

“Talk to him. Find a good excuse why we didn’t mention it earlier.” Mojo picked up his empty glass and stood up. “Meanwhile, if you don’t mind, I’ll get another drink, before we lose access to the bar once Crusher kicked us out of the airlock in person.” He had no desire to listen to the rest of the debate. Meyrani and Amalthea had made up their minds. Arek had given his answer, and he would stick with it.

He gave a chuckle. There really was no doubt about that, wasn’t it? Amazing, how his perception had changed in a matter of a few days. Less than a week ago Mojo would have thought differently, hell, he himself would have decided differently. For better reasons, of course, hunting down Murakos was his priority, and he’d do that alone if he had to. As for Arek - he had apologized on Omega, trusted him on Noveria, and he hadn’t left Mojo left behind when he had the chance. Finally, Arek had defended him in front of the captain. All that was difficult to ignore, even for his stubborn mind. Mojo would have suspected him to jump at decisions that saved the human’s own ass before, he couldn’t do so now.

“One more!” he called and shoved the glass towards Patrick. The barkeeper nodded, holding up three fingers, for the three minutes he would need to finish another order. Mojo didn’t mind, this would give him a quiet moment before he had to choose between leaving and returning to his squad mates. He leaned against the bar’s counter, he watched them. With their somber faces and frowns, it was a miracle they hadn’t caught the attention of everyone else in the room. Most people coming her wanted to relax, and, of course, gossip, either spread it, trade it, or find it. Amalthea’s reasoning why it was better for them to talk here than in a quiet corner made sense, but she had obviously forgotten that their squad had already been the in the focus of gossip over the last few weeks. Well, he couldn’t deny that he was to blame for that, and now his behavior was coming back and biting him in the ass. All because of a mistake in his judgment. His life could be easier if he had just made clear that he preferred solitude about random companionship, but no, he had to act like a rabid vorcha in a china shop. That was all Arek’s fault, and if Mojo only kept repeating that in his mind, maybe he would believe it himself. Humans, nothing but trouble, probably the only thing the older turian generations were right about. And yet, they were so oddly, well, compatible. So tempting - not despite, but because of their physical differences. He cursed the day years ago when he had given in to his curiosity. Yes, humans were tempting. That he wasn’t the only non-human on board who agreed with that comforted him, although he wished someone else than that drell shared his fascination.

 _Look who we have here. Gotta leave it to him, he is persistent when he put his mind to something. Or someone._ He smirked at the awkward silent that had fallen over the trio. Somebody tapped on Mojo’s shoulder - Patrick, with the new drink.

“Looks like somebody’s claiming your spot.” Patrick was gone before Mojo could answer. Funny, that the bartender would comment on Barat’s arrival. If Mojo didn’t misinterpret his team’s faces and gestures, they didn’t invite the drell to sit down with much enthusiasm, but he didn’t seem to be interested in sitting down by Amalthea’s side anyway. Barat was standing behind the sofa with Meyrani and Arek, smiling, his large, black eyes sparkling in the artificial light. He bent over, his arms lying on the backrest, between Mojo’s two squadmates, but slightly leaning towards Arek. Mojo was sure that wasn’t by accident. Arek’s pose was stiff, and he stared at the table, talking with a weak, polite smile. Finally, Amalthea pointed at the free seat next to her, but Barat shook his head. Then, he moved behind Arek and put his hands on his shoulders. Whatever he said, it made the two women laugh. Arek, however, showed a forced grin as he replied, and began to rise.

Mojo slammed his glass on the table. Without another thought, he crossed the room with few, long strides and stood by the group before Arek was standing.

“Mojo, there you are!” Barat laughed, his hands still touching Arek. “I was invited to sit with your wonderful friends, but I declined. It would have been preposterous if I had taken your seat while there was still the slightest chance of you rejoining! And can you imagine, Arek finally allows me to treat him for dinner!”

“Too bad that he’s an idiot who can’t remember his appointments. We have to be somewhere, excuse us.” Under the surprised eyes of Barat, Amalthea, and Meyrani, he grabbed Arek’s arm, pulled him up, and dragged the overwhelmed human out of the lounge.

 


	17. Theory and Practice of the Inversion of Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the best that could be done with sudden impulses is to give in and go for it. After all, all this was Arek's idea in the first place, unless that annoying human changed his mind. The only question that remains is - who is it exactly who has bitten of more than he can chew?
> 
> ! This chapter contains explicit male turian/male human smut. Read chapter notes for more information !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I guess the best way to set the mood for this chapter is to whine in the chapter notes. I admit that I am scared out of my wits with this one. It's not the first time I've written porn, but the first time it's inter-species smut, so what could go wrong but ruining everything that I've tried to build up since the first chapter? 
> 
> Enough! After all, my poor test-reader liked it, so it cannot be that awful >:I
> 
> A large part of this chapter contains smut. I'm not a big friend of a flowery language when it comes to that, so please be aware that you'll encounter explicit terms and actions.  
> If porn in general - or the way I write it - squicks you, I recommend skipping that part as soon as you begin to feel uncomfortable.  
> Use ctrl + f and jump to "They stood in" and you should be save again for the rest of this chapter. Message me on dA or tumblr if you'd like a rough, clean summery.
> 
> Have fun and enjoy yourselves!

“Now, that was odd.” Her eyes wide, Amalthea looked after them and took a sip from her glass. Meyrani was looking over her shoulder until Arek and Mojo had disappeared and turned back to her closed laptop. Barat was still standing, still gasping for air and at loss what to say.

“I’m sorry, Barat.” Amalthea and the drell would never be firm friends, but she acknowledged his skill as an infiltrator. Also, to see this usually so confident man so befuddled and disappointed stirred her sympathy. “These two have still to sort some things out between them. But I’m sure Arek will get back to you once he has time. Do you want to sit down?” She was relieved when he shook his head; while inviting him to join them was the polite thing to do she couldn’t imagine that an evening listening to him would have been very pleasing. Meyrani, too, had slightly shaken her head, her mouth forming a silent ‘no’ at Amalthea’s suggestion.

“I’m grateful for your kindness and as lovely as you ladies are, charming conversation and sweet drinks don’t fill an empty stomach well. If you excuse me?”

Of course they excused him, as gracefully as they could, well aware and not caring at all that they could never rival his courteous act. Both women sighed when he was finally out of earshot.

“It’s bad enough to share a room with him,” Meyrani said, showing her teeth. “He talks and talks and talks. I swear, if he hadn’t left I would have thrown all dignity aside and pretended to faint!” Amalthea laughed at the passionate declaration; it was more amusing as it came from the usually so collected young turian.

“So, what about us now, after three guys deserted us? Getting drunk?” She pointed at Meyrani’s still full bottle. “You haven’t even touched yours yet.”

“I know, and it’s just water anyway. But sure, why not. Give me a few minutes, I have to write a quick mail.” She opened the laptop, waited for the screen to pop up, and began to type. Amalthea watched her face, sure she caught her smiling.

“Updating your source, right? Seems to be a nice fellow, judging by that smirk of yours.” She pointed a finger at her, winking while she spoke with pretended shock. “Meyrani, if I didn’t know better, I’d accuse you of flirting!”

“You’re right with everything you’ve said. It’s my source, he’s charming, and you better believe that I’m enjoying a few flirty words here and there.”

“Rani, but what’s with Sellrin?! I thought you two were serious!”

“We are. But you know how Salarians are, and there are some things he cannot give me.” She sighed and looked up from her laptop. “He’s wonderful, and he said his brain, his heart and his hand to hold are mine. But for everything else… Do you have any idea how this is? Being with a great man like him, but never doing more than holding hands? By the spirits, it drives me crazy when Mojo undresses in our quarter, and more than once I was so close to hitting on Arek! And I don’t even know how a human’s dick is like!” She ended her passionate speech with a groan, and fell back against the back of her seat, giving a growl of frustration.

“Meyrani! You sound like a horny teenager!” she scolded with pretended shock.

“I AM a horny teenager!”

“You… are right!” Amalthea chuckled but put on a straight face. The meaning of the words hadn’t caught her off-guard, but that they came from Meyrani, who was their squad’s prime example of calmness and tactful reserve. that the frustration broke out of her as though they had been boiling inside of her for some time was an unexpected change, but showed how young she still was, and what a good actress most of the time. Remembering her early maiden years very well, Amalthea saw the dilemma of the young woman. There wasn’t much she could do except expressing her sympathy, and listening with amused delight. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been in a similar situation, I can only imagine it’s not always easy. But flirting with others? I’m not sure if that’s the solution.”

“You see, sex isn’t more than a body function to reproduce to him,” she explained flatly, scratching the side of her head, where the fringe ended. “He doesn’t connect it with romantic feelings and comradeship. He said, if I need it and do it with another man, he’d feel about it like I was shaking hands, or sparring.”

“Makes sense.” The concept of a whole race that was indifferent to the pleasures and emotional connections physical love could bring was still foreign to her, but it worked for the salarian while offering a solution for a sexual partner. “So, why don’t you just do it? I mean, you’re pretty and smart. I’m sure you’d find a man just for sex without a problem.”

“Of course I would, but the problem is that I’m a horny teenager with morals. I want to care for the whole package, not just a dick.” She had returned to her email. There was something grim about how her mandibles moved as she stared at the screen with narrowed eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind what others do, but it’s just not my thing.” With a sigh, she finished the mail and sent it. She closed the laptop and picked up her water.

“That’s good, for a second I feared you’re looking down on our frivolous biotic.”

“Not at all! As long as Arek doesn’t hurt anyone, I don’t care with whom or how many he sleeps. Well, I admit that I’m maybe a little jealous that he can enjoy himself so freely.” She smiled and put down her water after hardly drinking any. “Didn’t you say something about getting drunk?”

“So drunk until we can’t stand anymore. And, young lady, if you want,” Amalthea offered her a hand to help her up, “You can flirt with me all the way you want.” They were both laughing as they walked to the bar, Meyrani holding her laptop under her arm, Amalthea patting her friend’s back.

 

* * *

 

Mojo was dragging Arek through the corridor, blind to the people they encountered, and to the questioning looks he was getting. They were standing in the elevator, the doors had just close when he let go of Arek’s arm.

“Boy, it’s impressive what strength only three fingers have.” Arek rubbed his arm, grinning at the turian.

“Sorry.”

“I’m hearing that a lot from you these days - or rather, this day. If you keep it up I’m getting used to it.” He was joking, but Mojo didn’t pay any attention to his words. He was staring at the panel with the deck names. After a second of hesitation, he selected one of the upper decks.

“Where are we going?” Arek tried again. A hint of unease tinted his easy-going voice when he didn’t receive an answer. Mojo looked down at him, studying the pale face with the lively green eyes. Now he had done it. For one moment, he had stopped thinking and brought himself into this grotesque situation. He could continue to beat around the bush, but if he did, matters would become worse.

“Are you still serious about your suggestion? The one you made in that office?” There, that wasn’t that difficult. Whatever had gotten into him when he saw Barat touching this human, it still hadn’t left him. Maybe it had just been too long since the last time he had been with a human, that would explain a few of the things that were shooting through his mind since the moment he had let go of his prejudiced grudge against Arek.

“What - oh!” The sudden smile on Arek’s face was reassuring, and a lot better than being laughed at, as Mojo had feared for a moment. He froze when Arek took a step forward and raised his hand. The delicate, slim fingers glided along the turian’s throat. The other hand glided down his waist and rested on his hip.

“Sure. Wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it.” He reached for Mojo’s face, but he turned his head away. “Nervous? Hey, it’s just about a little fun. Turning negative energy into positive, remember?”

“I remember, and I’m not nervous.” The elevator saved him from explaining his thoughts to Arek and to himself. He shoved Arek’s hands away and walked outside. “Come.”

“Where are we going,” Arek repeated the question. They were in the part of the deck that was called the ‘office wing’ by most of the crew. Working here, or being called here, was boring to most people on board. The more interesting things happened on the engine or cargo deck, the labs and of course the training and leisure time facilities. Even navigation was more exciting, although the working shift was rarely up for a conversation.

They were walking past a large office, the only one they caught voices from behind the closed door, and the only one that was occupied 24 hours a day. It was one of the administrative offices that handled incoming and outgoing paperwork, reports, orders. Otherwise, this part of the ship was empty, with nobody present to wonder what business a turian had to do here, hurrying through the corridor, followed by a human who had to pay attention to keep up.

“Wait, isn’t that…” Arek caught his breath when they walked down another intersection that led to only one single door.

“Hackett’s office. Stay over there.” He activated his omni-tool, typing blindly while he stared at the camera at the upper corner across the door. A moment later, a small light flickered and turned back to green. “It will loop the recordings of the last few hours. Got that trick from the kid. You’d think she’s the one who lived on Omega for years. There, the door’s open.”

They sneaked into the office. It felt larger and more empty without the presence of the Admiral. The few furniture were spotless, and no book or folder was out of order. The simple, dark desk was empty, and the office chair behind it looked forlorn and deserted with its polished leather, as though it had been used before. Mojo looked around, checking the place for more cameras, but as it seemed, the admiral valued his privacy during his rare visits on this ship. Good, if there was anything good about the situation he had brought himself into. Arek chuckled behind him.

“Did we just break into the Admiral’s office to fuck? Dammit, Mojo, that’s gold!”

He cringed at the choice of words, but Arek was spot-on, and it was funny. A fraction of his sense of humor sparked up, and he calmed down a little.

“Are you really sure about this?” He turned towards the human, the grin leaving now doubt about the answer. For Arek, this was less about sex, but all the more about curiosity.

“Maybe I should ask you that question.” Arek closed the distance between them. Mojo shrugged, remaining silent when Arek reached for his face, the fingertips touching his mandible so lightly he hardly felt it through the plating. The hand wandered down, over the turian’s chest, but hesitated. As a nervous twitch weakened Arek’s grin, Mojo felt himself relax.

“I’m… a little lost here. How do I, you know, touch you the good way?” There was a genuine look of helplessness in the human’s face that was touching. That was the moment something of Mojo’s inner defense broke, as he finally was able to grasp that he had been in the wrong before, beyond just knowing it. That had led him here, standing in front of a human whose skin looked so soft and whose unusual hair he wanted to touch.

“So, I guess you haven’t found much time for some… research?” he couldn’t help teasing. Arek tensed, his eyes following Mojo’s hand as it came closer to his face. The talon of one finger touched the blushed cheek and moved along the throat, careful not to hurt the white skin.

“Eh, I guess I haven’t. I’m sorry. You won’t rip me to pieces because of that, will you?” he laughed, but Mojo noticed the hint of nervousness.

“Looks like you have to trust me here.” He chuckled as he let his fingers glide over Arek’s neck, and finally, through his hair. It was soft, and smoothed and Mojo wished it was longer. He felt how Arek shuddered when the rough skin of his fingers moved back to the human’s neck.

“Well, sounds like that settles the question who takes it.” The jest was back to Arek’s laugh, as he relaxed under the turian’s touch.

“That was never up for discussion.” Mojo grabbed Arek’s neck and took a step forward, pushing the human back until he hit the wall behind him. He leaned closer, slowly breathing against Arek’s ear.

“If you’re up to the challenge,” he whispered, letting the flanging in his voice linger. Once Arek nodded, he moved down, his teeth grazing along the slender throat. Arek tilted his head, exposing more skin. Mojo was tempted to bite but didn’t dare to leave marks. Instead, his tongue liked along the curve, warm and rough against the softness. He breathed against the thin, moist trail, growling when Arek shuddered.

He kept nibbling on Arek’s throat while his hands moved under his shirt. The second he touched the human’s skin, how it stretched over the defined muscles beneath, Mojo experienced a shudder of his own. Arek shoved his hips closer against Mojo. Concealed by the fabric of the pants, Arek’s hard bulge pressed against his groin. Yes, there it was, he felt it, one of the differences between human and turian males. It never stopped to fascinate him, how exposed the cock of a human was, and how easily it could be coaxed into its full size. He moved a hand between them, covering the bulge, wanting to feel it grow from his touch. Tension gathered in his own groin. Only a bit more, and his own cock would be too hard and too large to stay hidden.

“God, yes, keep doing that!” Arek growled between two gasps, his voice hoarse and demanding. Mojo moved away from Arek’s throat, watching his face. The talons of his two fingers scratched over Arek’s pants, following the outline of the now solid erection. Arek gazed back at him with half-closed eyes, grinning at him. A low, more breathed than spoken “fuck” rolled over his lips, and was repeated one, two more times. By the spirits, he loved how the voices of humans changed when he touched them like this, and he already loved that he was about to find out how vocal Arek was.

Two hands shot up and grabbed Mojo’s collar. Arek raised his head, and Mojo tore away only a second before he was pulled into a kiss.

 _No, not that. It_ _’s not about anything like that!_ He pushed Arek’s hands down. His mouth moved back to Arek’s throat, while told himself that he didn’t want to avoid the human’s puzzled look.

“Turn around, okay?” He put his hands on the slim hips, his fingers playing with the hem of Arek’s shirt. Arek did as he was told. Mojo didn’t waste a beat - he shoved the shirt up and pulled it over Arek’s head. Arek was still freeing his arms and dropping the shirt to the floor when Mojo gazed at the human’s back. He stroke along Arek’s spine with a bit too much force - his talons left two bright, red lines on the skin. He didn’t cut deep, and they would be gone in a few hours. But… that wasn’t what he wanted to do, he had to be careful and in control of his strength.

“Sorry.” He let his tongue travel over the scratches.

“Fuck, don’t apologize, this is damn good!” Arek groaned, his hands put against the wall. “Your tongue feels fucking damn good.”

“Does it?” He chuckled as he wrapped one arm around Arek’s waist. He pulled him closer, but with one hand on Arek’s back, gently pressing it down. Bending over his back, Mojo bit Arek’s neck - not so strong he’d draw blood - and licked over the tiny, reddened dots his teeth left. Red hair tickled his nose, leaving his free hand unable to resist touching it, letting his fingers run through it. He pressed his firm bulge against Arek’s small, round ass. Arek responded with a groan, and by teasingly wiggling as closely as he could.

“No comments from you?” Arek gave a hoarse laugh, trying to straighten his back, but Mojo’s weight on him kept him down.

“Not much of a talker… unlike others.” He opened the button of Arek’s pants, and shoved his hand inside, not bothering himself with teasing him through his underwear first. The heat of the human’s hard length greeted him. He reached down, a smile of delight on his face when his fingers moved through wiry, short hair. He withstood the urge to play with it, fearing that would strike the human as weird, and give him a reason to mock him. That wasn’t the mood that he wanted to put up with now.

“God… damn you, you…!” That was more like it. Arek groaned, his cock twitching when Mojo’s fingers wrapped around it, while those of his other hand tapped around his throat. One talon stroke over the throat’s skin, while the other hand teased Arek by moving slowly, with just a hint of pressure.

“Mojo… come on!” Arek urged his words quickly drown by a wave of groans and curses. Yes, this is where Mojo wanted - how he wanted him, squirming in his hands and against his body, cursing and demanding more, moaning when he didn’t get it. He was careful not to choke Arek - he caressed his throat to remind him of the presence of his fingers, and what they could do, but wouldn’t. Arek held his chin up, revealing encouraging trust. He was a strange human, Mojo couldn’t help wondering. Arek either was irresponsibly trusting, or too focused on what was happening between his legs to notice what was happening outside his pants. Both answers were worrisome.

 _You_ _’re lucky I don’t do this with guys I hate._ And he should stop thinking too much about things that weren’t his business, and instead, enjoy what he was doing. Arek hadn’t tried to touch him again, he was losing himself willingly to Mojo’s touches, accepting the turian’s lead without protest or questioning him. Maybe there was something after all Mojo could learn from him. So he pushed his thoughts away and listened to Arek’s voice, the gasps and the words muttered without shyness. He snuggled his face against Arek’s hair, feeling it tickle his nose and the skin around his eyes. He noticed the smell of shampoo - a fresh, herbal scent to him which was probably sweet and fruity to a human.

There was so much more to the lithe body, so many more places he desired to touch, just to see how this human reacted, to find out what he liked and what made him lose his mind. He had wondered more than once how it would be, to have a body with so many sensitive areas. As he would never find an answer to that, he enjoyed the thrills it gave him when he had the chance to give pleasure. He had taunted Arek about accepting the challenge, but the truth was, it was him, Mojo, who loved the challenge of figuring out what a human needed, different as they were.

However, he had missed the chance to take his time, to explore more. Arek was too responsive, the situation too exciting, and Mojo had found his way into Arek’s pants too soon. Also, it had been some time since he had been with someone, and, personality aside, Arek was his type. With his smooth and soft skin, the beautiful hair, the trim, firm body…

He let go of Arek’s throat. Arek slumped against the cool wall, protesting for the first time when the attention was taken away from his cock. Holding him with one hand flat on Arek’s chest, Mojo let the other move over Arek’s ass.

“If you want, we can continue here.” He shoved the hand between the firm buttocks.

“You kidding me, why do you even ask?” Hissing impatiently, Arek pressed against Mojo’s hand.

Ah, damn, he knew he had forgotten something. _Dammit, there_ _’s no way we could make it back to our rooms like this, without being noticed._

“You… don’t happen to have anything to make this work?” he asked without much hope.

“You mean if I have some kind of lube so you can finally fuck my pretty ass?” Arek chuckled, crying out with a laugh when Mojo bit his ear. “That’s kinda cute, you know? How you avoid saying stuff as it is. Check the pocket on the side of my left leg.”

“Say cute again and I’ll leave and lock you in.” Growling, Mojo bent down, patting over the pant’s pockets. He opened the one Arek had mentioned and found a small tube.

“What is this?” He read the label. Several species were listed on it, including turians, but couldn’t make much sense of the name.

“Something the doc gave me, to use on my scars if they happen to itch. Some kind of soothing lotion. That should do, after all, I’m not a tensed up virgin.” He laughed, shaking his ass. Mojo gave a sneer. Still kneeling, he grabbed Arek’s pants and pulled them down. Without a warning, he bit into the left cheek. Arek squealed, but still snickered while Mojo stood up, wiping small drops of blood from Arek’s skin.

“ _That_ _’s_ going to leave a mark. And no, I’m not sorry.” Glancing at Arek’s face and relieved to see him still grinning he opened the tube.

“I’ll wear it with pride.” Arek climbed out his shoes and pants but stopped chuckling when a slick finger felt its way between his buttocks.

“I’ll be careful.” Mojo nibbled on Arek’s shoulder while the tip of his finger pressed against the hole. Arek relaxed, Mojo could feel him breathe calmly, what made it easy to glide inside. He had to keep it slow to watch his talon.

“I know.” Arek shuddered and closed his eyes. It helped Mojo that Arek wasn’t afraid, and he allowed himself to listen to the little gasps and moans. His mouth worked his way up to Arek’s ear. Chewing at the lobe with hardly any teeth he made sure not to miss not too many of the sweet noises.

Arek was experienced and didn’t need much time to relax, but Mojo’s fingers were thicker than those of a human. He pushed deeper inside, the pressure drawing a moan from Arek while his body needed a moment to adjust. Then, Arek gave a sharp gasp and squirmed. So he had come close, to the spot that evolution had given male humans to feel even more intense pleasure. His patience was running thin, he wanted to hear him cry out, to feel him tremble and ache beneath him. He removed his finger, and pulled down his own pants, finally freeing his own hard cock. He squeezed more of the lotion from the tube, using the content on himself, licking over his front teeth as his hand glided over his cock with ease.

He dropped the tube to the floor, but something about Arek’s pose had changed.

“What’s wrong?” His mouth gently grazed over Arek’s neck. He stroke over his back and his chest, avoiding places he remembered as more sensitive than others.

“Nothing. Come on, don’t stop now,” Arek urged him on, but Mojo wasn’t fooled.

“You’re tense all of a sudden. Here.” His hands traveled over his shoulders, and down over his waist. “When you have second thoughts all of a sudden it’s fine. We’ll just call it a day.”

“Geez, how can you be like that now when you’re usually such a jerk? Does anything ever make sense about you?” Arek laughed over the nervous tone in his voice. Mojo didn’t answer, he continued to stroke Arek’s waist and hips, waiting for either the muscles to loosen or Arek’s tongue.

“About what you said on Noveria,” Arek finally sighed. Standing upright, he leaned against the turian’s hard chest. “About the size, and shape of turian dicks. I was so sure you were joking, but… Damn, I feel stupid now. I mean, I could just turn around, right?” But when he was about to move, Mojo grabbed his shoulders, stopping him.

“Got a better idea.” Mojo had to bit on his tongue so he wouldn’t burst into laughter. He stroke over Arek’s arms until he reached his small, human hands, took them in his, and pulled them behind Arek’s back.

He shoved his cock into Arek’s hands, the fingers closed around it as soon as it touched them. Mojo stared at the wall in front of him, feeling the eager fingers explore the long, smooth - very smooth - shaft. How it ended with the tip, shaped not much unlike a human’s, but seamless, and slightly slimmer. Arek played with it, his fingertips teasing it until Mojo failed to hold back a moan. Satisfied, the fingers moved down, the grasp becoming tighter where the shaft began to widen half-down the way. Finally, they arrived at the wide, sensitive base, the part of his body where his skin was at its thinnest and softest.

“Is this where you, well, balls are?” Arek twisted his fingers to let his fingernails scratch over it.

“Can we go over the details of turian anatomy later?”

“Don’t complain, you owe me after pranking me about that damn sweet cock. Can I lick it?” He raised and twisted his head until he grinned at Mojo, who was looking down at him. Knowing about the skills of the human mouth, he was tempted for a moment.

“Next time.” _I didn_ _’t say that, did I?_

“Noted.” Snickering, Arek stopped stroking Mojo, and took a step closer to the wall, putting his hands on it, and slightly spreading his legs. “Have fun!”

Mojo accepted the invitation. He stepped behind him, guiding his cock between Arek’s buttocks. He pushed against the hole, the tip finding its way inside with ease.

“I can’t promise I won’t cause any bruises,” he muttered, shifting his hips so his sharp bones wouldn’t drill into the soft flesh. But there were the plates on his upper legs and torso, his skin that was sturdier and rougher than that of a human’s, and the protruding sternum. He stroke over the marks on Arek’s back; he didn’t want to add more.

“Fuck that, bruises heal, and a little roughness spices things up!”

Well, if Arek saw it like that - fine. Mojo didn’t have to try or go out of his way, roughness came with sleeping with a turian.

He wrapped his arms around Arek’s waist and chest, thrusting deeper. He heard him breathe, felt him wince against his body when he became too wide.

“Don’t hold back now, I can take more.” Arek squirmed in his arms, panting. Mojo thrust again, harder, forcing another inch inside. He sensed the heat and pain, shuddered at the voice crying out.

“Shut up.” He licked over Arek’s neck, the skin red and sensitive from Mojo’s teeth. He moved slowly, careful not to thrust too deep. They would have needed more time for him to use his full length, or more force - that wasn’t worth it. He had Arek where he wanted him, at loss for words, his voice reduced to guttural moans. Mojo was deep enough to touch Arek’s inner nerves. He had him squirming and moving his hips for more, to challenge Mojo’s steady rhythm. A thin layer of sweat covered formed on Arek’s temples and back, creating that alluring sensation of heat and cold of a human’s skin.

Arek straightened, pressing his back against Mojo’s chest. The angle and the pressure around Mojo’s cock changed, pushing him dangerously close to the limit of his self-control. One of his arms was still across Arek’s chest, holding him in place. The lower hand traced over the tensed muscles of Arek’s stomach and through the curly hair before they closed around the human’s cock.

“Fuck, if you…” Arek groaned, hanging in Mojo’s arm, the turian’s body his only remaining hold that saved his legs from giving in.

“That’s why.” A few firm strokes, his thumb gliding over the head, and he felt the last, final swelling in his hand. He thrust his hips as hard as he dared, pulling out slowly. When his teeth sank into the Arek’s shoulder Arek cried out, and warm moisture began to cover Mojo’s hand.

Mojo gave him a push, and Arek fell towards the wall, panting against the metallic surface. Mojo hissed through clenched jaws, pulling out painfully quick almost a second too late - he found his release on Arek’s back without having to touch himself.

They stood in silence, waiting for their breath and their hearts to slow down.

“Don’t get a wrong idea, we’re still not friends.” Mojo recovered his voice as soon as his mind began to work again. He let go of Arek, looking around.

“Aren’t you romantic. Hey, what are you doing?” Arek’s chuckle broke off when Mojo reached for his foot and lifted it enough from the floor to pull off the sock.

“Teamwork. I do the work, you provide the materials.” He wiped Arek’s back clean from the result of his climax. The scratches were burning red from sweat and the friction between the bare back and Mojo’s shirt, and the hard chest beneath. A bruise was already taken shape where his sternum had pressed into the skin, right beside the spine.

“I’m sorry.” His fingers lingered above the marks as he apologized for them, and for his helpless struggle to cover his insecurity of what to say with his usual rude ways, turning them into the act of pretense he didn’t want them to be. He threw the soiled sock to the floor, took a few steps back and pulled up his pants.

“Come on, shut up about that already. A good fuck is worth a few bruises. God damn…” With a groan, Arek lost the strength in his legs, he collapsed against the wall, gliding down to his knees.

“What’s wrong?” In honest alarm, Mojo knelt down by his side. Dammit, if he had pulled out too late, if Arek showed an allergic reaction, or even went in shock… Could there be a reaction from his semen because of the scratches?

“It’s my legs. Guess that’s what the doc meant when he said I shouldn’t overexercise my muscles for at least a day.”

Mojo looked at Arek’s upper legs. The dragoon’s whip had left two deep cuts that had been closed by the doctor, but the scars and the skin around them glowed with an alarming red. He had forgotten about his own injuries, intuitively choosing a position that didn’t hurt him, smart and selfish as he was, and Arek’s wounds had slipped his mind. His eyes searched the floor, and he picked up the tube with the medical lotion.

“Here, there’s still some left.” He pushed it into Arek’s hands. Then, after a short moment of hesitation, he shoved his arms under Arek’s knees and around his back and lifted him up. He was light in his arms, and through his own clothes, Mojo felt he naked body shivering.

“What…?” Arek looked up at him in confusion. Mojo refused to answer or to look back at him. He walked over and around the desk, and gave the office chair a little kick to turn it around.

“Take a rest,” he muttered, lowering Arek into the chair. Then, he walked back to fetch Arek’s clothes, bundled them up and put them on the desk, propping Arek’s feet on top of them. Finally, he pulled the second sock from Arek’s other foot.

“Wow, Mojo, that’s actually-”

“Put that stuff were the doc told you to put it. If it doesn’t get better, see him. Spirits, you left a bit of a mess here. Imagine Hackett decides to visit later.” He laughed as he cleaned the wall and the carpet as good as he could with the sock, and tossed it to Arek’s shoes once he was done. To his relief, Arek didn’t say another word, but he sensed that he was watched with those bright green eyes, and, worse, probably with a grin on the face.

“I know this was just sex and nothing sweet and schmaltzy. I prefer it that way anyway, as you might know,” Arek said after Mojo returned to him. “It was damn good, and I want to do it again sooner or later. What do you think?”

Mojo sat down on the desk, crossing his arms and stretching his long legs. He glanced at the cuts, certain that he had been right earlier this day when he assumed an infection. He should insist that Arek checked with the doctor, just to be safe.

“Sure, why not,” was all he said in the end. The human’s well-being wasn’t his concern, unless while they were sleeping with each other. A hint of doubt nagged on his mind if it really was a good idea to agree to a sexual relationship with Arek. Sure, he didn’t need an emotional bound to enjoy himself once in a while, and yes, it had been good. Yet, something in him warned him to stay away from him, to leave now before any other word was said, to forget about all this and to go back to his everyday business.

“I guess that’s kind of a stupid question, but you’ve been with humans before, right?” Arek shook his head with a smile when Mojo only chuckled. “Obviously. Would never have thought you were into humans, not after how you’ve treated me all the time.”

“That had nothing to do with you being a human.”

“Just with you thinking I was an asshole.” Arek dismissed that old debate with a wave of his hand. “I’m surprised how different you were while, you know. Damn, now even I have a problem to just say ‘while you fucked me with that hot cock of yours’.” He laughed and stretched his arms and back in the comfortable chair, avoiding to move or tense up his legs more than necessary. “Guess I saw - or better, felt your true self, eh?”

The smile vanished from Mojo’s face and from his mind, his shoulders stiffened at Arek’s words. That was what he got for staying - stupid talk that smashed all the wrong buttons. Well, whatever illusion Mojo had entertained about Arek since they closed the office door behind them, it shattered and returned him to the world as it was.

“It’s called facets. Just because I behave differently when I sleep with someone it doesn’t mean the way I am during a mission or, you know, when not having sex, isn’t true. It means not having a one-dimensional personality, understand? Nah, of course you don’t get it. I’m done wasting my time here.” He pushed himself from the desk and turned away. He had caught the hurt looked on Arek’s face and didn’t want to care.

“It’s better when we don’t sneak out here together. Make sure to put the chair back where it was and close the door when you leave.” _Fuck this_. This wasn’t the outcome he had wanted or hoped for, hell, he didn’t want to hope for anything in the first place. It was just… Mojo had thought he had known better, of course, a guy like Arek would only understand what or who was like himself. Mojo had to expect that, if he didn’t keep his distance, Arek would take that as an invitation to somehow squeeze Mojo into his narrowed view of the world, accepting no other explanations or ways that didn’t mirror his ideas. What surprised him was how the fact hurt him when he had been so sure that he didn’t care. This wasn’t good, that wasn’t good at all. He had to get out of here.

“Mojo, wait! What did I… Hey! That’s not fair!” Arek called after him, but Mojo walked through the door and closed it behind him. So what if it wasn’t fair, that was life, it rarely was fair. He straightened his clothes and headed for the elevator.

 


	18. Party Impressions with Dr. Terius and Mr. Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties are fun. There is a lot to drink, lots of food, and lots and lots of things to be said and to be heard. The perfect stage for the curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! Sue me, but I think this chapter didn't turn out too bad. Talking about bad - I have some unfortunate news. The next few weeks to come, my days are becoming busier during the week. I'll do my best to keep up the weekly update-rhythm, but I cannot give a guaranty. If I fail and have to postpone an update for a few days or even a week please forgive me. Have my promise: I'm not going to abandon or pause this fic, the worst that could happen are really just delays! I'd be an idiot if I abandoned this story after writing it and reading your reactions brings some sweet happiness into my life!
> 
> Well, enough of that! Enjoy the party!
> 
> (artwork by [Blastedking](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/tagged/champions))

“What an unusual dress for a young woman, if I may say so, Dr. Terius. Of course it suits you, but it’s rather - untraditional, isn’t it?” The turian’s eyes wandered along her chest and down her stomach, his mandibles twitching where scales and skin were exposed. He was wearing a suit of the usual formal turian fashion. Straight cut and tightly fitting his body from toe to throat. Simple blue and golden ornaments decorated the black jacket, reminders of his achievements during the first contact war. The markings on his face were of an intense red that might be mistaken for being added only yesterday if they weren’t adorned with a deep scar, starting below his left eye and ending were his jaws parted.

The young turian woman acknowledged his words with a graceful nod but put one confident hand on her hip. The purple dress snugged around the already distinguished shape. The close round cut that allowed an unhindered look on her stomach, robbing the gazes of the generals around her of a clear focus.

“You’re right, General Trikan. Unusual, untraditional, especially for a turian. In short - it’s asari fashion.” With a glass of bright green wine, she pointed at her chest. The prominent sternum gave her body the curve she needed to fill the top of the dress. A cut below the covered neck showed the greyish skin where her throat ended and the beginning of the plates leading to her collar plates.

“I’m sure there’s no gentleman in the room who’d deny that the view is quite pleasant, but, excuse my candor, do you think it’s appropriate for an occasion like this?” Trikan spoke with the sincerity of the well-meaning grandfather, his gaze lingered where her talon almost touched her throat.

“Oh yes, General.” Her hand moved from her hip under the general’s chin. With gentle force, she pushed his head up until their eyes met. Under the chuckles of old military friends and her understanding smile, the flustered general took a step back.

“Gentlemen, I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t fighting for our cause, and I’m overwhelmed by the honor to stand amidst the presence of such legends as you. But yes, I’m aware that my dress doesn’t speak of our traditional attires, and yes, I’m convinced it’s appropriate. Understand it as a symbol, dear General.” She began to pace in front of the group of listeners who had gathered, their curiosity raised when this young, frivolously dressed woman spoke up with a firm, confident voice. The listeners were turians. A group of humans of a similar number stood at a distance that might have been respectful, but several glares gave them an air of aloofness.

“Our people are respected throughout the galaxy for our military expertise, yet, our last coup was the first contact war, and… well, we know the outcome. I say, not only space was invaded by those humans, but also what has always been our pride - military genius. Which we know share with humans.” She spat out the last word. She waited until the mutters of agreement died down, and spoke on,

“We have impressive scientists, but who does the council think off first when it’s about research and development? Salarians! Trade? Volus! Art? Elcors and asari. Culture? Asari. History? Asari. Beauty and grace? Asari! Those blue, fleshy creatures with these fat lumps on their chests think they rule the universe. Why? Because their race is old, because of their unnatural ways to meddle with the order of the universe. Biotics, pah!” She thrust the empty glass into Trikan’s hands.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I value our traditions. I’m proud of our history. However, time doesn’t stand still, but we do. I say enough is enough! I endorse the ideas and plans of this wonderful society, but I disagree on one thing - we won’t triumph over inferior races if we cut ourselves off. No! We’ll develop, and we’ll take from them what we need to surpass them. We’ve hidden our plates for too long. I say, our time to reclaim our place ahead of the council is near. And while we have to work on our military brilliance and our scientific research, I decided to take the first step. I show my beauty, the beauty of turian women, and I dare you to tell me that my beauty doesn’t rival that of any asari while wearing their fashion!”

Cheers broke out, and the reserved generals clapped in excited agreement. Several men step forward, shaking her hand until one highly decorated admiral brought her a new glass of wine while patting her shoulder.

“Well said, Dr. Terius.”

“Thank you, Admiral Trelan.” She met the admiral’s gaze with pride, mirroring the firm touch.

Admiral Trelan gave an appreciating nod and returned to the men and women behind her, her clear, singing voice calling for a dignified order as they discussed the new ideas.

 

“You’re enjoying every second of this. Don’t even try to deny it, Dr. Terius.” A human had separated himself from the others and walked over to her, whispering with a wide grin on his face.

“Of course I do, Mr. Fox.” She chuckled. “I’m sorry, I can’t get over at how fitting this name is.”

“And I regret telling you what a fox is.” Chuckling himself, he stroke over his red hair. “Anyway, impressive speech. Thea could never have used the dress like that to convince a bunch of racist turians that you’re one of them.”

“Keep your voice down,” she warned, but they were lucky. They were far away enough from the Cerberus delegation, and the turians were too busy patting each other back. “Do we really have to discuss that project now, Fox?” She rose her voice, rolling her eyes as she sneered at the human. “I swear, I can’t wait until our parties will go separate ways again. What is it?”

“I’ll be damned if the lab’s troubles aren’t your fault. Now, can I have five minutes of your precious time to go over your calculations before the asteroid blows up?” He ushered her away from the turians into a calmer corner. They continued their game of sneers and aggravated sighs. He feigned a grimace of disgust when she leaned towards his omni-tool.

“Thea? How’s it going?”

“All clear down here,” Amalthea’s voice whispered. “Had to incapacitate two guards, could pass the others. If all goes well, I’ll get our man before you’re drunk, Rani.”

“It’s your fault I’m prancing around half-naked in this rag, I dare you to try and stop me from having a good time.”

The asari stifled a laugh.

“For saving me from wearing that thing I wish you the best time of your life! Looking good, by the way. You pull the elegant lady off better than I ever could.”

“True,” Meyrani replied dryly, with a smug sparkle in her eyes. “Fortunately, Arek’s doing a good job as well. I doubt things would work out smoothly if we had gone with the captain’s initial plan, and having you and Mojo sneak into this place.” Arek and Meyrani laughed as they thought of the scene in the captain’s office. Amalthea had flatly refused to play the role of the partner of an asari contact between Cerberus and the Eclipse. After a heated discussion about insubordination she had tried on the evening dress the staff had organized for her. Three minutes of her strong arms threatening to tear the delicate fabric apart while she awkwardly strode through the room convinced the captain to think of a plan B. Mojo wiggled out of that plan with less effort - a turian with scars on his face where he should wear his family’s tattoo with pride, walking among the most traditionalist turians in the galaxy? They’d have been kicked out before they’d set a foot on this moon whether he sported an elegant suit or not.

“Talking about Mojo, where’s he? Not lazing about somewhere, I hope?” Arek checked his radar. The small dot standing for Mojo’s presence was blinking on the dark screen, but he was still unfamiliar with the area. The order to infiltrate a suspicious party organized by a turian admiral and a higher Cerberus executive on a seemingly abandoned space station came out of the blue. They were provided with their roles, their objectives, and a rough layout of the ship. Once they had been dressed and rehearsed they were on their way, with only limited time to study the maps during their shuttle flight to a turian research lab on a station in the Antaeus system. From there, Arek and Meyrani continued the flight to their destination in a Cerberus shuttle, as Dr. Terius and Mr. Fox.

“Mojo’s hiding on the roof opposite to your little party hall. Burning to take out some heads,” Mojo’s voice hissed through the com channel. “Bored to death while you guys are stuffing yourself,” he added in his usual disgruntled manner.

“Thought you love roofs so much,” Arek replied, surprisingly harsh.

“I love roofs when I can enjoy the view they offer, but not if I have to watch your ass to bust you out of trouble.”

“Thought you loved my ass.”

An array of sharp words was followed by Mojo cutting off the call.

“Do I want a translation, Rani?”

“In all seriousness, no, you don’t. Thea, don’t forget to let us know when there’s an update.” Meyrani closed the com channel a tad too eagerly and shoved closer to Arek. “Spit it out, _Mr. Fox!_ Your spite, his reaction. There’s something going on that I definitely want to know!”

“Another time, okay? It’s kinda complicated.” With a sour smile on his face, Arek observed the other guests. Humans and turians mostly stayed away from each other, or only exchanged a few words with cold expressions and degrading stares. He had counted four asari who chatted with either party without showing any sign of animosity. Meyrani had no eyes for what was going on around them, she chuckled in a sudden rush of excitement.

“Just what I hoped to hear. Was he good? Tell me everything!”

“How the hell do you know about…?!” Arek bit on his tongue. He was familiar enough with the look of smug satisfaction in a turian’s face by now, by courtesy of Mojo.

“Really, Arek. Don’t insult my intelligence. The tension between the two of you. You two being awkward around each other since Omega. You going out of your way to assure him you’re not his enemy, Mojo apologizing to you, and finally, him dragging you away to the Spirits know where! And after that - back to square one. There’s something juicy going on between you, and when you guys get a going at what was just a matter of time to happen, you managed to blow it right away! For the records - no pun intended.” Her expression was beyond smugness when Arek blushed. Her back and neck straight while she looked down at him in triumph, she didn’t have to fake the aloof glares of the turian generals.

“Rani!” He was caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“I know what you’re thinking, you don’t need to say it! Just let me tell you: Yes, I am smart, I’m an extraordinary expert in my field, I’m from a traditional, respected family on Palaven, and I know my manners and when to be serious. But that doesn’t stop me from being a living turian being.”

“And curious.”

“And curious. Tell me more about all this later. There’s the admiral.”

 

Rigid shoulders. The austere stare set ahead. The room turned into the bridge of a warship under Admiral Trelan’s firm step. She showed no sign of a smile when she joined the pair. Meyrani - Dr. Terius to her - was bestowed with a regal nod. She ignored the human standing by her side.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, Dr. Terius,” she said in a tone that answered the question in the young woman’s place.

“Of course not. There were… irregularities regarding the project I’m working on. I’ve solved them to my satisfaction.” Meyrani had turned her back towards Arek, mirroring the admiral’s rejecting stance. If she favored - or only paid attention to - a human during a conversation with one of the prominent hosts she’d slammed doors shut she had barely opened moments before.

“I didn’t expect otherwise. I must say, you’ve earned my admiration for your intellect and wit, but I don’t envy you. Your potential is wasted. Have you considered what you could achieve without the burden of humans? That no one with a clear mind wants to have around?” That was the closest Admiral Trelan would allow herself to acknowledge the human’s presence. Before she decided to let someone else dirty his hands on him so he’d finally leave, Arek withdrew himself to the human area, straining his ears to catch as much as he could from Meyrani’s talk with that turian witch. The buffet that was waiting for him offered a welcome excuse to stay close. The scent of smoked salmon made his mouth water while his eyes went on a journey through the culinary specialties of earth. Cerberus had a good taste in food, and if all he could do to make them pay for their crimes this moment was to help himself, who was he to let such an opportunity slip? A mouthful of pink, juicy roast beef also saved him from talking to any of the Cerberus members, so his healthy appetite served a greater good - his and Meyrani’s security.

“…and everyone is honorable and proud, for good reasons,” he heard the admiral say. “But I had to take a break. Smart as they are, their ideas are dusted, their visions of our future stale. They wish to return to a society that had flourished through the days of our ancestors. They refuse to see that their glorified ideals require the rest of the galaxy to return to their past as well. But enough of them!

I questioned your value for our association when I first saw you, Dr. Terius. You surprised me. If we want to bring the turian race back to their old glory and fame, we need individuals like you. Smart, with the enthusiasm and courage of youth, and an open mind to recognize benefits for our race when we encounter them.”

She finished her little speech by raising her glass. Meyrani still held her head high, rivaling the admiral’s pride countenance with graceful ease. If Arek didn’t trust her he’d find it difficult to believe that her behavior and her words were all nothing but the part of an act.

He shoved a generous bite of cake into his mouth. He occupied the dessert area of the buffet by leaning against the table, letting his gaze wander. The rift between turians and humans was as invisible as it was deep and impassable, it might as well have cut through space and time. High brass and shiny uniforms didn’t warm the room. The space station had been abandoned more than a decade ago, yet, filled with life, whispers, and intoxicated cackling, the atmosphere was colder than space itself.

The room, the former lobby of the executive complex belonging to the base, had been cleaned and put in order. Simplistic furniture had been added, to equal parts of turian and human style, less to bring at least a hint of coziness between the walls of dark steel, but all the more to impress the other half with a sophisticated taste.

In his life, Arek hadn’t thought he’d find something more irritating and appalling than politics and diplomacy. And now he had to play along with this despicable charade of fake diplomacy with the only goal to subvert politics. What an amazing bit of luck that they could rely on Meyrani to actively gather names and information - even better, names and information fell for her bait and all she had to do was to pick up what she needed. Arek caught interesting tidbits here and there as he sauntered between the humans, but he wasn’t an actor.

He had reached the glass sliding doors while he had strolled aimlessly through the lobby. His plate was empty, his throat dry and thirsting for a cold drink. He was standing close enough a trio of Cerberus members to hear them gossip about a mutual acquaintance. He stopped listening once his ears had fished the name out of the babble. If he was lucky they’d find something about a Mr. Marley, born on earth, Chicago in the ship’s databank, if not, well. He looked outside.

The building across the small square belonged once the laboratory complex. What kind of research had been conducted there he didn’t know, and he had forgotten the company’s name who had built and owned this base. The only fact he remembered was that it was in the hands of humans. They had gone out of business a few years ago, run out of funding after they couldn’t keep up with their competitors, mainly with salarian origins.

The perfect place for this meeting, abandoned, without a soul who claimed ownership. Nobody cared for a station on a small moon orbiting the planet Trebin, yet it offered everything that was needed. Rooms, artificial airing, water, and working technology.

And a good roof that offered a sniper the perfect overview of the part and the shuttle parking lot.

Arek couldn’t see Mojo from where he was standing. Not that he had seen much of him anyway during the last days. Mojo avoided him since that one time in Hackett’s office. He walked past Arek, ignored him when Arek spoke to him, and acted like Arek wasn’t there when the squad gathered to discuss future missions. He didn’t fall for any of Arek’s provocations, neither in good humor nor in mean spirit, and Arek had come to realize how boring the days had become. It looked like his mother had been right when she had told him that everyone needed a nemesis after he had come home after another brawl with that idiot from the third grade. It spiced life up, she used to say, and it certainly did. An alien nemesis who knew how to please his body was an extraordinary kind of spice he wished he had never tasted if he couldn’t have more of it.

 

A faint signal came from his omni-tool, announcing an incoming message. Meyrani? He fought against the reflex to turn around and see for himself if she was still exchanging assurances of mutual respect with the admiral.

_[Escaped to the restrooms before I ripped off her mandibles. What did you say to Mojo to piss him off?]_

He chuckled. What was it with this so proud and tough girl that she seemed to change into a child on a whim? He liked it, it made him ban Mojo’s remark about the stiffness of turians from Palaven into the realm of rumors.

_[Wish I knew, and as you can guess he won’t even let me ask him. Why?]_

It was difficult to keep a straight face, and almost impossible to force a serious expression in pretense of an important conversation that absolutely wasn’t like back in his teenage years. Teachers were liars, all of them, with their promises that everything would be different once they were released into the evil, humorless adult world.

He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds for her reply.

_[Somehow I expected you to be clueless. Anyway, next time you see him, just tell him you made a mistake, but  he's overreacting, got it? You = mistake, Mojo = overreacting.]_

Now this was getting weird, from her keen interest in his problems with Mojo, her guessing that they were in a sexual relationship, well, relationship was a too big word for them having sex once, especially considering the outcome. And finally, her using a moment of escape from her role as a spy to give him advice how to handle Mojo.

_[What is this? Some kind of Open Sesame for clammed up turians? And what if it’s me who’s right?]_

_[Open what? Nevermind. Just trust me on that. Can’t stay here for much longer without raising suspicion.]_

He shut down the omni-tool’s screen and shrugged, keeping the frown on his face. That was weird, but so were a lot of things, starting with a party exclusive for racist, patriotic turians, and racist, patriotic members of Cerberus. He’d keep Rani’s advice in mind in case he encountered Mojo before the turian could flee from him before a first “hello”. Right now was the time to mingle again, keeping his ears open and his plate full.

 

 

 


	19. For There is Always Something Down There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Arek and Meyrani are enjoying themselves, more or less, Amalthea has actual work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I almost forgot that it's indeed Friday today, and was already in doze-off mode when I remembered! I'm getting old!
> 
> Also: 
> 
> Warning - there's a bit of gore and blood in this chapter.
> 
> But more importantly, there's more artwork by Blastedking. If you want to see some sexy turians and a handsome Arek, [click here](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/tagged/champions).

Amalthea was on her own.

The objective was clear:

_Find Professor Randolf Q. Lancer. Arrest him, secure the data chip, and return to the Hamburg._

The professor was a man in his late seventies. He hadn’t undergone military or any other sort of combat training. Most of his life he had spent in labs between computers and Petri dishes. Amalthea had seen pictures of him, the newest from a conference on the Citadel, from three years ago. White hair, scrawny, hunched shoulders and bloodshot eyes that looked small behind an old fashioned pair of glasses. He hadn’t aged well, and she doubted he would reach the average human age of 150. He wasn’t much of an opponent if it came to a fight.

Arek had spotted him shortly after his and Meyrani’s arrival at the party, and within a few minutes, he had smuggled a GPS transmitter into Lancer’s pocket. They couldn’t waltz in and arrest the professor in the middle of at least 30 eye witnesses, so they waited. For a restroom break, for a stroll outside, for a chance to lure him away. Then it seemed as though he was unintentionally helping them with their job - he retreated further into the building, descending into the basement. Arek and Meyrani had their role to play, and she insisted that Mojo stayed behind as a backup. A few guards hardly sounded like trouble, and the first two she encountered wouldn’t alert the illustrious circle anytime soon once she was done with them.

She had sneaked past another well-armed guard. Once she had slipped through the door at the end of a flight of stairs she was out of their sniper’s sight.  
She wasn’t faint of heart, in fact, she was welcoming a little adventure on her own. However, when the darkness closed around her and she was left alone with the sound of water dripping from a leaking pipe, her thoughts began to whisper in her head...

The building was abandoned, the party was held upstairs, the necessary facilities were controlled in a backroom on the ground floor.

Yet, they had placed guards to secure the basement.

She tiptoed through a narrow passage. Electricity was buzzing along a cable above her head. She dismissed the idea of searching for a light switch. The light alone could attract unwanted company, and if the strip lights above her exploded she hadn’t gained anything in return.  
She halted and pressed her body against the cold wall. Holding her breath, she listened.  
Infiltrating wasn’t her forte. Like Arek, she preferred a direct confrontation. There was nothing more satisfying in combat than charging into the enemy and knock them down. Warp attack, or a well-aimed headbutt, both were equally fun and equally effective.

This here would have been Mojo’s specialty, or Meyrani’s, but she needed Mojo to remain outside, and Meyrani had to stand in for her as the sexy, charming lady. Amalthea had enough sex appeal and charm of her own, as long as she wasn’t forced to wear a dress and to move like a society lady instead of a soldier. Another truth was that even if she had decided to make herself uncomfortable in a dress, she wouldn’t have agreed to send her youngest squad member and friend down here alone.

Water was still dripping behind her with unchanged monotony; a slightly faster but as steady rhythm of drops of water falling onto steal echoed from the other end of the corridor. Wherever this end might be. She hesitated to increase her biotic aura. The blue shine outlined her body in the pitch black corridor and made her an easy target. She hurried, one, two seconds had to be enough. Once she got a quick impression of her surroundings she faded back into the darkness.

The way was shorter than she had thought. With careful steps, she proceeded towards the door in front of here. There wasn’t another escape from the corridor except what lay in front and behind her, and she was alone. The scratches of claws over metal had to come from a ventilation shaft above her. Or from behind the door. The dripping and the buzzing, and the sound of her breath made it difficult to settle for the position of the unseen source.

Her hand closed around the doorknob. The metal was cold in her hand, and the surface rough and brittle. To her relief, she turned it with ease, and the door, despite the rust, opened without a sound. She stopped once she had closed the door behind her. She growled and pulled a face, shifting from one foot to the other. This was too slow. Sneaking, stopping, listening, scolding herself that the noise of rats between the walls had - almost - given her a scare. Rinse and repeat. At this rate, she’d need hours to find her way around.

She opened the map on her omni-tool. The professor’s signal was not far away from her, and it was still coming from the basement without a doubt. Too bad that they had only been equipped with a map of the general layout of the building, but not with detailed floor maps. If there had been more time for research on this place they might have found a file with the complete map. But when the Hamburg’s tech specialist had bothered to crack the data cluster containing the date and place of this little get-together of Cerberus and their allies, there had only been a few hours. A few hours for them to listen to more stern warnings from Crusher, for the briefing, to come up with a plan and to leave for the mission.

Amalthea was certain that Meyrani, maybe even Mojo, would have gathered all the information they needed to make this mission easier for them, but they were still denied access to the intel.

Her ears told her she was still alone with the dark and complete silence. The power lines in this room were either perfectly intact or broken for good. She set a foot forward. The sound lacked the metallic echo from before - she was walking on dry concrete. She waited for the rats to return, missing the comforting presence of life. Somewhere above her, out of sight and earshot, there was a party, with drinks and food, laughs and chatter, and with her friends. Besides that, a lonely turian with a grudge against the world sat alone on a roof, on top of a deserted building on top of a deserted moon floating in the emptiness of space.

Her aura illuminated the room, pushing back the walls before they came close enough to crush her. Nothing was here, not a crate, not a piece of furniture. Beside the door behind her, another one was to her left and one to her right. The walls had lost their shine over the years. More importantly, they were inanimate, had always been. Following the professor’s signal, she chose the door to her left, grunting and sneering as she scolded her brain and the prank that it had just played her.

The door refused to budge.

She pressed the handle down a few times, rattling the door. It was locked. There went her plan to remain unnoticed until Lancer could feel her breath on his neck. She kept the handle down with an outstretched hand. The glow around her body turned darker with the growing density of biotic energy. Shoulder first she charged against the stubborn steel.

Torn from its hinges, the door crashed together with the asari into the next room. A wall of stench stopped her fall and threw her back.

“Goddess!” If anybody was close they would have heard her breaking in, so she didn’t bother lowering her aura. The buzzing had returned, in form of cables being ripped from the ceiling. One was dangling in the middle of the room, two steps away from her. Sparks were hissing, but they hadn’t killed the professor.

Covering her mouth and nose with her arm, she walked up to the lifeless body. The bony built, the white hair, a brown, straight cut suit as she remembered it from the picture.

Professor Lancer was dead. His own blood had been splattered over the grimace of terror that once was his face. His milky eyes, dull in life, still spoke of the fear and hatred, the last feelings that had filled his soul before it was snuffed out. She knelt down next to him, carefully turning his head. Flesh had been ripped from his throat, down to the esophagus. A puddle of blood had collected below the body. She took a closer look at the professor’s torso, a mesh of fabric, tissue and blood. It was difficult to tell what had maimed the flesh, or if this had killed him or the destroyed throat.

The blood had stopped throbbing out of his body not too long ago. It was still wet, and while the metallic smell coming from the corpse was strong it wasn’t the source of the revolting stench that had greeted her. Pinching her nose, she took a deep breath through her mouth while she stood up.

At least she wouldn’t have to follow her nose to get to the bottom of this unexpected turn of events.

There was only one door left to open.

Her hand twitched back from the handle. With two light, almost jumping steps she returned to the corpse. She wanted to know what had happened here, and why, and every fiber in her warned her she’d find the answers behind the door, along with the source of the stench. Fortunately, there was still the second part of her assignment. She began to search the dead body with stiff fingers, starting with the side pockets of his coat and the pockets of his pants. A data chip could be hidden everywhere, and with a bit of luck, the professor had been carrying the small object close to his body. She sighed, her hands rested on her upper legs for a moment. Nothing, of course. However, there were at least two pockets left.

“Here we go.” She reached into the pulp of blood and torn flesh and pulled the lapels of the coat free. The fabric was soaked with blood that was slowly beginning to dry on the seams. “Still beats the dress,” she fired herself up and shoved her fingers into the breast pocket. Nothing. With a growl of frustration she pulled her hand back and wiped it on the professor’s pants. She flapped the coat open and revealed a small pocket sewn into the inner lining. She sneered at her luck’s sense of humor - the pocket had been cut open along with the professor. She searched it more thoroughly than the small size required, but it stayed empty.

“Fuck it.” Her hands scratched over the remains of the dress shirt, in the faint hope to feel the outlines of a small chip. Next, she shoved the torn scraps of the shirt aside and searched the open flesh herself. The blue skin of her fingers was black by the time she was done, fitting the red-brownish color of the once white shirt, as she noted with a grim frown. She found another clean spot on Lancer’s leg and cleaned her hands. Wherever this cursed chip was, it wasn’t with the professor. Dammit, she had been so sure that a vain character like him wouldn’t part with something of this importance to his lifework, although she still didn’t know what exactly this something was. The information she had received didn’t include much detail. Well, there was still that one room waiting for her, in the meantime, Arek and Rani should keep their eyes open.

She waited a few seconds for her signal to be answered. Rani’s line remained silent, but Arek accepted the call. She passed through the room while she spoke with a hushed voice. Despite the size of the room her voice seemed to echo between the walls as though she was standing in a hall, another trick her mind was trying to play on her.

“Arek, bad news the chip isn’t here, and the professor’s-” Her eyes caught something that was so out of place like a krogan in a flower shop - a tiny, pure white spot sticking out from under the bleeding corpse.

“Can’t speak, here’s…” Arek disconnected.  
“Why do you accept if you can’t listen or talk.” Mumbling through curses in several languages, she stepped over the body and knelt down. The white spot turned out to be made of paper and belonged to an envelope. The paper had already begun to soak up the blood, but it was still intact. She didn’t have to open it, the shape of the content was sticking out all too clearly.

“Here you are, you little bastard.” She shoved the envelope with the data chip into one of the flat pockets of her uniform. She stared at the last door. Her objectives were completed, she had retrieved the chip, and there was no sense in arresting a corpse. There was nothing left to do for her. Or rather - there was nothing left she was obliged to do. Nobody would blame her if she turned around and left, leaving the smell and the answer to Lancer’s death behind her. She shrugged. Somebody else, whomever it concerned should solve this unpleasant mystery.

Two steps later, she pushed down the handle, gasping despite her held breath when the light from behind her fell into the room.

Her hand flew across her nose and mouth, filling them with the smell of the dead human’s blood.

Corpses were lying in front of her, piled up like thrown away trash. There were at least twenty of them, she guessed. Long faces, gaping mouths spiked with countless sharp teeth, red eyes wide with stale terror and cold anger.

She gasped. A pile of dead vorcha. At least she didn’t see any signs of a corpse from another race, that was something. Yet, a wave of pity welled up inside of her. A dead vorcha was better than a dead from one of the intelligent species, but even creatures like them didn’t deserve to be murdered and rot away like this. The half-lit room was bright enough to see that several limbs had been broken, heads smashed in or partly shot off. More than one chest had been hollowed by the shots of a Kishock, or maybe a Spike Thrower, or some other rifle or shotgun that was banned from any civilized military, deemed as unethical.  
These vorcha had been slaughtered, and then disposed off, down here and behind locked doors, while humans and turians flaunted their evening attire and showed off their medals and insignia only a few meters above them.

But why this cruelty? Who would do this?

She stepped closer. Some of these unlucky creatures were so small, half her size, and one hardly taller than a baby. Amalthea put one and one together. She wasn’t standing inside the mass grave of defeated soldiers. This was the result of what happened if a clan of primitive creatures that wasn’t trained for battle was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“DIE!”

Amalthea dived to the floor. Two shapes were flying over her. Hissing and snarling they crashed to the ground, scrambling back to their feet before she was on her knees. They launched at her and toppled back to the floor when their bodies hit a glowing barrier.  
Slowly, focused on maintaining the biotic forcefield, Amalthea stood up. The smell of burnt skin mixed with the stench of congealed blood and decay.

Two vorcha were crawling towards the field. One stretched out his hand and hasted back when smoke spiraled from his fingertips. Hissing in disgust he stared at the scorched skin.

“Turian must die! Revenge!” The second vorcha walked up and down the field, looking for a way to pass.

“I’m not a human,” she declared with a loud, clear voice. “I’m asari! My name is-”

“Not care!” The vorcha’s arm cut through the air. Amalthea glanced at the long, blood-crusted claws at the end of each darkened finger. Blood was splattered across the vorcha’s face and chest. One question solved, she had found the murderer of Professor Lancer. If Lancer had been involved with the slaughter she failed to feel much empathy for the dead man.

“Blue turian. Hairy turian. All die!” the vorcha continued, prancing in front of her shield.

“Do you… know what asari or humans are?”

“Not care!”

Her brain worked quickly. Vorcha died young, after 15 or 20 years, often sooner, due to their ferocious behavior. Any vorcha born and raised on this moon would never have seen individuals of another species, and she didn’t have much trust into vorcha educating each other about the galaxy. Their first contact with an alien being had probably been turians. Poor things, it had not been a fortunate encounter.

“Vorcha, how old are you?” she asked, the feeling of pity for these creatures growing.

“DIE!” His arms wide open, the critter jumped towards her, again held back and burnt by the field. Giving a squeal of pain, he crawled back, closer to the corpses of his family and friends.

“Vorcha, I’m not your enemy.” She lowered her voice, banning the threatening growl from it. She focused on the one that had talked. From the corner of her eye, she saw the other vorcha moving. He - or she? - was smaller and thinner than the first one, and hadn’t said a word yet. He had crouched towards the pile, and began to push and tear at some of the bodies.  
“I was sent to arrest the man you killed.” She avoided looking at the small one. Her stomach hardened as he was digging through his dead kind. “Did he do this to your clan? Is this your home?”

“You all kill vorcha. All vorcha. Clan dead. Home,” he repeated her words. “Kret survived. Strongest. Protected Rerr. Brother.” He pointed first at himself, then at the second vorcha, Rerr. While they were talking Rerr had pulled a corpse almost free from the pile. Amalthea saw only the torso of the body. That alone was taller than the smaller brother. The whole creature had to be one or two heads taller than herself, if alive and standing. She hadn’t known that vorcha could reach a size like that. Rerr crawled under the corpse’s arm and curled up against the body. Kret’s shoulders dropped. The tension vanished from his body. In Amalthea’s experience, vorcha were energetic creatures. Loud and obnoxious among each other if they weren’t attacking whoever happened to step into what they thought was their territory. Kret looked tired, a sight that challenged her perception of this peculiar race.

“Mother,” he said, and stomped to his brother. He grabbed Rerr by his arm and pulled him away from the dead embrace. Rerr yelled and howled at him, sinking his teeth into his older brother’s arm when he didn’t let go of him.  
“Mother no life!” Unimpressed by the sharp teeth and his blood dripping to the floor Kret dragged Rerr with him.

“I’m so sorry.” Amalthea swallowed hard, slowly starting to grasp the drama unfolding in front of her. Vorcha might be closer to animals than to superior races like the asari, but she couldn’t think of a scenario that justified what had happened to these children. She had no doubt that both of them were far from grown up.

“Kret grown. No need mother. Rerr still need.” He looked down at his brother with the mix of affection and disgust she knew from all teenagers who were told to care for their small siblings. It was touching to see such a familiar behavior from these wild creatures, if asked, she’d have assumed they weren’t able to feel anything but hunger and rage.

“Kret, I’m here to help you,” she cooed, as though she was trying to calm down a nervous, aggressive pet. “I’ll help you and your brother. I’ll find a new home. No bad turians. No more dead. Only home and food.”  
The brothers were watching her with their round, red eyes, and she heard them panting and sniveling through their flat noses. They exchanged a short glare. Kret hissed at his brother, who finally let go of his arm. She thought she understood one word among this torrent of hisses and growls - “help”.

“Lancer? That turian bitch is looking for you!” a voice shouted through the basement.

Amalthea jerked around. For a critical second, she lowered her defense. Kret cried out with an angry screech that pierced through her ears. The distraction was enough - the brothers jumped at her. The forcefield sizzled and collapsed. She threw her arms up to protect her face, but the vorcha sprinted past her.

“Fuck!” She stormed after them, past Lancer, and into the next room, but she was too late.

A scream of terror turned into a chortling gargle, followed by triumphant howls and the squishing noise of flesh being torn from bones.

 

 


	20. Déjà-Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arek does his best to fix things that don't want to be fixed.

If the Gods had mercy with Arek, he'd live through the perils of the Reaper war, and one day, his military career would end. On that day, the first day of his retirement, he would find himself a nice little cottage in the countryside, as he remembered from his grandmother. And from that day on, he would stay clear of all the buildings in the galaxy that had their roofs on top of more floors than the ground floor.

“Hey, Mojo.” Arek wiped the sweat from his forehead. The lab complex was locked, but to his luck, he had found the fire staircase to be in a good shape. Climbing shaking and rattling stairs were better than free climbing a smooth wall, yet he could have done without the exercise of sneaking up seven floors. That he had to take the same way down once he was done here – which could be within the next ten seconds, depending on Mojo – was a fact he denied for the time being.  
He took a quick look around. Three main complexes formed the core of the base, lab and research, administration, and manufacture. Small living containers were scattered around this core, in the outskirts he saw the towers for water and food supply, a hall, probably used to store materials. The parking lot was occupied by one lonely, forgotten Mako surrounded by shuttles from Cerberus and turian private and public companies.

A dome, constructed of wires and energy, formed the artificial atmosphere similar to that on earth, which allowed humans and turians alike to breathe. Where that dome ended, the landscape of the moon began. What looked pale from space was a dessert of grey sand. Steep mountains shot into the sky, wide craters formed patient traps for drivers and wanderer who let themselves be distracted by the stars above him. Still, after more than ten years in space, Arek hadn't shaken off his disappointment that the moon, his symbol of the mysteries of space, was nothing but a dead, floating rock, drawing its circles around the planet. As true as this seemed for all the moons, or at least the ones he had been on, he partly kept blaming Luna, the moon of Earth, as though it was responsible for shattering the romantic illusions the little boy he once was harbored in his space-hungry heart. He was glad he wasn't alone on top of this roof, otherwise, the loneliness would have overwhelmed him – in a moment like that he would even have missed that awkward party between arrogance and superior complexes. Any company was better than being lost and alone.

“What do you want?” After Arek standing still and muted by the view, Mojo broke the silence. He was lying flat on his stomach, the rifle shoved through the railing on the roof’s edge. He was glued to the scope, not leaving the party out of his eye. Arek wondered if Mojo had seen him coming, trying to imagine what could have gone through the turian's head, if so.

“I've got something for you.” Easy-going in voice and pose, Arek walked up to him and sat down by his side, his back to the happenings across the yard. He couldn't see what was going on there anyway.

“What?” Mojo asked after a pause, losing the struggle of feigning absolute disinterest.

“A déjà-vu.”

“A what?” Mojo raised his head and stared at the bottle dangling in front of his scope. “What is this?”

“It's a drink. For you. Which I brought you all up to this damn place because I want to apologize to you. Doesn't that sound familiar?” With a grin, Arek remembered Omega, the first time he and Mojo had really talked with each other, when the turian had, for once, listened to him, even joked with him. Well, on Arek's expense, but he had been laughing, and that counted. He found it difficult to believe that only a few days had passed since then, less than two weeks, and how much had happened since then. Not just the investigations, but between him and Mojo. And with himself, he thought, as he realized that the turian was smiling when he took the bottle from Arek.

“I hope not everything is going to be repeated.”

“Nah. Okay, I have no clue what it is. It stood on the turian buffet, and it looked kinda expensive, so I hope it's some good stuff.”

“Great. I'm sure it's not suspicious at all that a human inspected turian food and sneaked away from the party, all the way up here. Go back and do your job before somebody notices you're slacking off.” A frown was falling over Mojo's face. For a short moment, he had almost overcome the distance, but Mojo seemed to jump at any opportunity to keep it growing.

“Slacking off?” The choice of words made him laugh. “Mojo, what do you think is harder work - stuffing myself with amazing food, paid by Cerberus, while listening to gossip and admiring Rani's performance? Or getting on top of another roof to try to get you talking to me?”

“Giving up is an option,” Mojo offered and shoved the bottle against Arek's chest. “I'm sorry that your efforts are in vain, but I can't accept this. The sooner you accept that we're better off keeping out of each other's way, the better.” He returned to his scope

“I disagree.” He turned the bottle around between his hands. His thumb smothered the over the label. He tried to make out the words, but they were written in the turian native language, which he had never attempted to master. He deciphered 'Palaven', and there his memory of the weird letters ended. He put the bottle down between his legs, and bowed back his head, waiting for his eyes finding the sparkling stars above them.

“Mojo, I'm sorry, it was my fault. I said something dumb at the wrong time. You've got every right to be pissed, but I wished you'd have just told me what’s going on. Instead of, you know, overreacting.” Now, that had been a challenge. The words of Rani’s advice had been easy to read, but saying them aloud was the difficult part. Well, he had done his bit, now he waited for Mojo snapping at him for having the guts to shift the blame to him. Silence followed as neither said a word or moved. Mojo had his eye focused on the party. Not one muscle twitched as he was lying there, outstretched a hidden from the view of anyone who might raise their head and look at the building. The absence of wind howling, voices or anything that hinted at life hurt in Arek's ears. There was nothing but the sound of his own breathing, and Mojo's, regular and flat, as though all there was on this moon were he and his rifle. Arek waited, desperate for anything to happen, an answer, explosion, yells, the destruction of the world. He yearned for noise, chatter, a smile, no matter how fake it was. The gathering across the yard was calling for him, offering him enough pretense to escape this void that didn't want him.

“I know.” Finally, Mojo spoke. Arek shuddered at the sudden interruption that colored his dark thoughts with confusion.

“You... know?!”

“Yes.” Mojo put his weapon aside. With a sigh, he sat up, leaning against the rail by Arek's side. They were turning their backs to the assigned building, offering a convenient target to any hypothetical sniper that might look into their direction.  
Arek was at a loss for a moment. So Meyrani had given him magic words that did have an effect on Mojo. How could she know this would work, or was this a turian thing after all? He had a hunch that she wouldn't give him a direct answer, and he didn't dare to ask Mojo, not now.

“It's, well, a bad habit of mine.” Mojo turned his rifle between his fingers, like Arek who was still playing with the unwanted bottle.  
_You don't say._ Yet, Arek was glad that it was Mojo himself who stated the obvious, although he'd never have expected him to admit it so frankly. He bit back the sarcasm and waited for Mojo to find the right words. Arek avoided looking at his face, fearing that a direct stare would raise the defenses that Mojo had just lowered. His gaze fell on the turian's legs. One stretched, one bent, they both were so very long and slim. He didn't get behind the weird angle shape of turian feet, or the purpose of the spurs, and wondered what they looked like without the boots. Funny. Inwardly he laughed at himself. A few days ago, Mojo had fucked him until Arek's legs gave up, and yet he was hardly any wiser about how he looked under his armor and casual clothes. Things had happened so fast, and as fast they had been over. He had missed the chance to figure out if turians kissed.

“Don't think I'm not aware of who and what I am,” Mojo brought him back from his musing. The rifle lying on his lap, he crossed his arms and legs. His head tilted back towards the sky, Mojo sighed again. “Was pathetic to run out on you right after, uh, you know. Was too stubborn after that to apologize. Sorry about that.”

“You left me behind pretty confused. But apology accepted,” Arek added with a smile, daring to glance at the turian. Mojo's gaze was still lost in space. He could get used to this Mojo, with less hostility and more of this... He lacked the word to explain this mood. Thoughtfulness came to his mind, but that wasn't quite it, neither was brooding. Maybe it was simpler.

Calm. Now, that was something that Arek didn't associate often with his own lifestyle. His fingers fidgeted at the thought alone, and the heaviness of the silent universe around him was pressing down on his shoulders.

“Well, good we got that out of the way!” He raised his arms over his head and stretched his spine. “Hate it when stuff like this comes up. Sure, we have had our differences, but whatever I've said then wasn't meant to piss your off. Guess I picked the wrong words. If I do that again, be a buddy and just tell me right away, okay? Geez, who would have thought that we can actually manage to solve our fights with talking? Should have known that you aren't just another Mr. Bad Guy. Hard shell, soft core, as they say. Literally in your case, eh?”

“You have no clue what pissed me off, right?” Mojo stopped his stream of words.

“Well...”

“As you asked for it, I'll tell you now what I should have said that evening. This whole friend-thing that's so important for you is not going to work. Starting with the obvious, I don't like crowded places, and you can't even endure sitting a few minutes in silence. That's reason number one. Number two – you don't get it. When others tick differently. If you could have it your way you'd drag me into the lounge and make me join whatever party or gathering crosses your way. To show me your wonderful, happy world, and make me realize that secretly, all I really want is to be a part of it, just like you. Right?”

 _No! Not right! It’s…_ His thoughts hit the wall Mojo had put into his mind with his speech. He recognized words he saw indeed as wonderful and fun, but how could they be arranged in a way that made them sound bad?

“You can't be happy like this... I... I just want to figure out what made you this way and help you, if I can. You do have good sites.”

“Arek, I'm not drowning in despair, and I'm not a mystery. I neither need to be saved nor solved. Not saying I'm perfect, not saying things couldn't be better, but there's no happy-go-lucky turian version of you hidden inside of me. You don't get it, that's fine, not holding that against you. Don't want to be around someone who wants to fit me into a mold, that's all.”

“Mojo...”

“Go back to the party before they notice you're missing. If Amalthea hears that you left our squad baby alone with those morons she'll detonate the eezo in your cells before you can wrap her around your finger.” Mojo grabbed his rifle and turned back on his stomach, eye to the scope, and became a part of the quiet, unmoved world around him. Everything was back to the way it was when Arek had arrived on the roof, and there wasn't anything he could do to change it. It would take a while until Mojo's speech seeped into the deeper parts of his brain, where he could process and understand what he had just heard. As it was, he was confused, why was it so bad, why was his friendship rejected and he seen as shallow when he wanted somebody else to be happier? Of course he wasn't thinking that Mojo was like him, and needed to be like him to be a happy person, that was ridiculous. But, if Mojo only tried, if he gave Arek a chance and allowed him to... show him his wonderful, happy world. If that was wrong, what was right? He needed more time and one of those loathed quieter moments to think.  
So they were living in different worlds, but if they didn't hate each other, there had to be a way. After all, they were literally from different worlds. And because they wanted to see other worlds, their species developed space travel, right? Now he only had to learn how to navigate through the space between them. Comforted by his finding a metaphor that made sense to him, Arek stood up.

“Here.” He put the bottle on the ground, next to Mojo. “Don't see it as a friendship offering. See it as your share from the buffet. I'll smuggle something out for Thea later, too.”

Mojo didn't say anything, and Arek walked away.

 _Not a mystery, sure._ Arek's mind was working while he climbed down the staircase. _Says the guy who refuses to tell anything about his past, what happened to his face, and who makes a big fuss whenever somebody asks about his real name. Don't want to be treated like a mystery? Don't act like one!_ His foot slipped and he slid down the next four steps. His hands clenched around the rail and he caught his balance before he fell on his behind.

“Fuck this.” He pulled himself back on his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. The shaking of the stairway died down, as did the sudden rush of anger. He wasn't even really angry. What bothered him was the frustration, not with Mojo, but more with himself, that he didn't get behind the things Mojo was doing and saying. Fine, maybe Mojo didn't see himself as a mystery or riddle. But how the hell was he, Arek, supposed to understand this guy if he wasn't allowed to find answers to all the big question marks that had invaded his head? Why didn't this guy just give him a manual, that would make everyone's life a lot easier.

Giving up was an option. Mojo's words. Arek had enough friends, he couldn't think of anyone on the ship who didn't like him, and he already had a steady number of casual lovers who didn't mind sharing him. Life was good. Mojo said life was good for him as it was. If he let go of the idea that they should be friends there was nothing lost for anyone involved. He didn't need him as a friend, or for sex.

Mojo had said something about facets that day. Another thing he had a difficult time to understand. Arek thought of people as whole beings. Being one kind of person in one situation, but another around others or different circumstances but not faking it was a complicated and confusing idea, but maybe Mojo was onto something after all. Arek wasn't a chaser. He found friends quickly wherever he showed up, and if he was the one who started flirting for once he stepped back as soon as the other didn't show any interest of that sort into him, no problem. His ego could live with that, there was no reason to complicate things or to allow a single rejection to drag down his good mood.

Yet, his brain was smoking as it searched for an answer to the question why the hell he tried, again and again, to approach Mojo when all he had gained so far was anger, hurt feelings, and frustration. Might have something to do with those facets, one of them being a Mojo who was caring, while he could give a damn good orgasm. A Mojo who was open about his faults and apologized, while being the same stubborn, irritated guy he used to be when they still wanted to strangle each other. Curiosity sure was Arek’s curse, that was probably the solution – Arek liked to categorize people around him, and Mojo made that difficult. Good, one mystery solved, about hundred left. Bonus points though for admitting that he wanted more of that hot turian-human-sex. There was more left to discover than Mojo’s tangled personality.

That had to wait, he had a job to do, and his blinking omni-tool reminded him of that. He swore that, even if it defied all physical laws, the visual signal flashed more aggressively when Amalthea was contacting him.

“Arek! Mojo! Do you hear me?” The high pitch in her voice alerted him. Something had gone wrong, he had to get her out of her troubles, whatever it was, and to make sure that Rani and Mojo weren't endangered, too.

“Thea, what's wrong, where are you? Are you hurt?” He jumped from the last landing and pressed himself against the wall, in case one of the charming guests had caught the motion.

“I'm fine. Why the fuck are you away from the party... nevermind! Listen!” She was gasping and her voice was dull and hollow, as though it was coming from deep under the moon's surface. So she was still in the basement, and out of breath for some reason.

“Did you find the professor?” he heard Mojo ask.

“Lancer is dead. Long story short – two vorcha are coming your way. They're still kids, but angry and aggressive and scared. Turians killed their clan. You have to stop them before there's a bloodbath, and take care of Meyrani, she's without any weapons or biotics!”

“Two vorcha? Two shots will take care of that problem.”

“NO!” Arek and Amalthea shouted, and fell silent, puzzled when they heard their voices echoing their protest.

“Didn't you hear, they're just kids! You can't kill them!” Arek hissed while he tried to remember where the position of the entrance to the basement. Was it to the left or to the right of the main door...

“Spirits, Arek, they're just vorcha. If I get them the moment they storm out of the door and you drag the bodies away nobody will notice they were ever there!”

“ _Just vorcha?!_ What the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't tell me you're one of those assholes who see them as vermin just because they are... a bit...”

“Primitive. Stupid. Savage,” Mojo suggested.

“Strange, I caught that a lot today, when your lovely species talked about humans.”

“That's...! Don't you dare to compare me to those assholes!”

“Cut it!” Amalthea broke between them. “Mojo, don't kill them unless the life of a squad member is in danger. Do not kill the vorcha! Knock them out if you have to, but save them, and get them away from here!”

“Save them? Why are these vorcha kids so damn important?”

“Mojo, stop arguing. I gave you an order! I'll be with you in a few minutes, I hope. Don't mess this up!”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Mojo gave up. “There they are! I leave that one to you, Turner. I'll fire a warning shot when they get too close to the main door, maybe that will scare them off into another direction.”

“Aye! Thank you, Mojo.” There was no answer. They left the com channel open. Amalthea was talking with someone, sounding further away than before now that she didn't spoke into the omni-tool. He didn't have time for either of them anyway.  
The vorcha were coming into his sight. They were emerging from the right of the main door, furious and tensed. Their backs were hunched. One moment they were running on all fours, then again on two legs. They weren't half as fast as he knew it from grown up, battle hardened male vorcha. The slightly taller one dragged the other after him, who struggled to keep up. Instead of helping they hindered each other when they fell over their feet and had to struggle for balance so they wouldn't tumble over the ground.  
They stopped in the middle of the yard. The smaller one was clinging to the other's arm. Both looked around with wide open eyes, baring their teeth and hissing so loud that Arek was sure even Mojo could hear them. Amalthea had been right, the taller one didn't look older than four, a teenager in vorcha-years. The other – maybe two years? Hardly more than a toddler. They really were nothing but children, and they were ready to give whatever they had left in their skinny bodies to fight for their lives.

“Hey, boys!” Arek showed his own teeth, lowering his voice to a snarl that sounded pathetic in his own ears. Thea or Mojo would have done a better job at imitating the growling hisses of a vorcha, but this would have to do. He stretched out his arms, his palms turned up, to proof he wasn't wearing a weapon or about to strike with claws he didn't even have.  
The kids' heads jerked up, their chests were heaving, and the older one lifted his hands, showing his claws as a last warning to the human who was moving closer to them.

“I'm here to help. A friend. Save you. Can you understand me?” If they were from one of those clans who hadn't had much contact with other species this could become difficult very quickly. He could imitate a few basic growls, enough to introduce himself as harmless or as a threat, but by far not enough to replace a verbal conversation.

“Haired turian!”

Arek's relief about hearing spoken words was short-lived. They took a few steps backward, then threw themselves around and darted towards the main door – and the party.  
A shot was fired and followed by a curse over the com channel. Mojo shot again, and this time, Arek could see the projectile only inches away in front of the vorcha's feet.  
He held his breath – they had done everything wrong. It was his presence, and now two shots out of nowhere, that scared two kids who had just reached freedom back into the false safety of closed walls around him.

“Mojo! We have to do something!” He forgot about his incognito role as he was running after them while yelling at his omni-tool.

“What do you expect me to do, executing everyone who isn't a vorcha?! Wait, I'm coming down!”

“No, stay there, a back-up they don't know about could be our trump card. I'll take care of this on my own.” _And keep Rani safe._ He was ashamed that he had – for a moment – forgotten about her, and only remembered when he walked through the door.

A circle had formed around the intruders, one-half humans, one-half turian. The children were standing back to back, hissing and snarling at the many eyes staring at them. Their claws cut only through the air so far, a threat showing their insecurity.  
_Gods, they're terrified._ Arek sneaked closer. He spotted Rani among the turians, in a safe distance from the vorcha, lurking from behind one of the generals. She had agreed to go without a weapon, as the invitation demanded, and as her dress didn't offer a pocket or fold for a small knife or gun. He gave her a smile that was meant to encourage her. Mojo was outside, and he was here, ready to defend her with his biotics if necessary. Right now, however, he worried more about the two kids. He had to find a way to get them out of here, where they had a chance to escape. Fierce and strong as vorcha – especially angry vorcha – were, against such a large group of experienced soldiers they didn't stand a chance.

“Leave! Or die! Touch Rerr and die!” The tall one spat at a turian who dared to come closer. The small one - his brother, as Arek guessed - gave a yelp when he heard his name, and pressed closer against the older vorcha.

“So? I'll ask one last time! What are these pests doing at my party?” Admiral Trelan barked at turians and humans alike, her mandibles flapping and her eyes glaring with the promise of pain if she didn't receive the answer she demanded. Arek shuddered at the thought of fighting her, even if it was for the sake of innocent kids.

“Allow me to explain, Ma'am.” A general stepped forward. Arek recognized him as the one who had almost fallen into Rani's décolleté earlier, where he would have risked drowning into his own drool.

“I arrived here with a few of my soldiers three weeks ago, right after you ordered to inspect this place,” the general wasted no time to begin his tale. Under the raised plates above her eyes, his condescending demeanor was shrinking to a meek, apologetic prattling.

“A group of humans arrived moments later. We stayed out of each other’s way until we encountered a small pocket of this vermin. We figured there were more, infesting the base. So we agreed some extermination was in order,” he told with a roguish pride that made Arek’s blood boil.

“From your smile, I understand that you took care of the matter yourself?” The danger of her temper was lying in the indifference in her voice.

“Yes. We, um, took the liberty to train our tracking and hunting skills. The humans had a similar idea, so of course, we had to put those cocky dimwits into their place. After all, humans have hardly outgrown their vermin stage themselves.”

A murmur of protests arose among the Cerberus executives, accompanied by mocking chuckles from the other turians, but a wave of the admiral's hand silenced them.  
_And I called Mojo an asshole._ Arek shoved himself past a group of humans, closer to the vorcha. Unfortunately, the circle around them was too tight, he saw no way to lure the kids away during the conversation without being noticed. He moved back behind the crowd while the admiral spoke,

“To the point, general. You and the humans amused yourself with a game of hunting vorcha.”

“Yes, admiral.” He finally seemed to sense that Trelan wasn’t sharing his glee. He lowered his head and hasted through the rest of his tale, “A semi-large clan lived in the basements and sewers under all three buildings. Of course, we won, after chasing them through their own home before shooting them down.”

“Our military is in a worse condition than I feared if you're proud of killing a bunch of dumb animals that can't even walk properly on two legs. You disgust me, Trikan.”

A knot formed in Arek's stomach. Assholes! Goddamn assholes! Vorcha were territorial, not very unlike turians or krogan, but with enough resources, and space to spread, many clans lived peacefully, with the usual quarrels and fights that ripple through every community. Until the number of individuals reached a critical size. A short period of brawling and fighting sorted who stayed and who left, and the spirits calmed down, until the next time. If this had been one of those clan with only very few females, it was possible that these two kids hadn't experienced the separating phase in their short lives yet, and had never been exposed to real violence and fights with lives at stake. That also explained why they were too terrified to launch at the hostile crowd around them.

It had been a day like any other for them. And the next moment, strangers arrived, and they'd been hunted, chased, while the narrow corridors of their own home turned into death traps.

“And if your game was so successful, what are these things doing here?” Admiral Trelan finished her scolding.

“We found them after we thought we got everyone. They were hiding under the corpse of one of the big, fat ones. The humans insisted on keeping them alive. Something about a present.” The general shrugged, and a human, wearing a white suit similar to Arek’s instead of the regular Cerberus uniform, emerged from one of the back rows. Dwight Barclay, if Arek remembered correctly. CEO of a company specialized on developing and building vehicles for aerial rescue missions. A man respected for his work and the philosophy of his company - no man left behind. Facades. Facets. Facade or facet. Arek was growing tired of them.

“Those vorcha are mine. If they are strong enough to survive until our gathering is over, they'll make a good gift to one of our recent acquaintances, who is still... a bit on the fence about our offer to join our mutual cause, Trelan. I'm not in the place to judge the individual tastes of others as long as they make good business partners.”

Arek's omni-tool informed him of a new message. He took a step away, but kept one eye on the scene in front of him. God, if he had claws he'd gut those sickos himself. He already struggled to stop himself from hurling a few shockwaves at them, and the message was just what he needed to take a deep breath.

[Can't see the vorcha, too many heads blocking the view. Killing now too risky. Gonna shoot one of the lamps out, should cause a diversion. Grab the kid and your buddies and get out of there, I have your backs.]

A lump suddenly blocked his throat that he found hard to swallow down.

[Thank you, Mojo.]

Mojo didn't have to do this. It wasn't his fault that the view was obstructed, and even Arek wouldn't have blamed him when Mojo didn't open fire on the attendants. It needed a dozen of snipers to take everyone out before they figured out what was going on, and if that happened, he and Meyrani were in real danger. And nobody would care about vorcha as casualties.  
He didn't go so far to assume that Mojo did that for him – and he certainly didn't do it for the vorcha boys – but he worked with them on a solution, that was more than he could have asked for. So there was a glimmer of hope, for the survival of the vorcha, and for a way to form a friendship.

Two shots were fired.

Two shrieks pierced through the room. The lights were still on.

Arek's arms were hanging limp by his side. His stomach turned, and acid was rising up his throat.

“That's ridiculous.” Admiral Trelan shoved her gun back under her blazer. She wiped her hands on her pants, as though she feared that blood had spluttered far enough to soil them.

The vorcha were lying on the ground, their eyes wide, the larger one clinging to the smaller. Blood was trickling from there foreheads, where the projectiles had drilled into their skulls right between their eyes.

“Fuck you!” Arek pushed the onlookers out of the way and stormed to the center of the circle. He knelt down between the dead kids, whispering a silent sorry.

Cerberus and turians were staring at him, forgetting for a moment to fight over the fact that the admiral had brought a weapon to this gathering, and used it to interfere with Cerberus business.

The admiral stepped forward, her hand moving towards the hidden holster. Before she could say anything, Meyrani hurried between them.

“Mr. Fox, you're a disgrace, even for your species. Human or not, I expect from a member of my research team to act with dignity. Your loyalty towards Cerberus is none of my business. Your friends will find a more tasteful gift and get over the loss of this.” Nose and mandibles twitched. Her pose was still proud and straight, her voice firm. She glanced at the admiral, assuring herself that Trelan still bought her performance.

Arek was about to snap at her, then he remembered that Rani probably didn't receive half of their communication. It wasn't her fault, and right now she was the only one ensuring their safety. Arek nodded, stood up, and took refuge from the admiral's skeptical glare among the other Cerberus member. He forced out some words of indignation about turians and their overbearing, patronizing mannerism.

“Enough. The meeting is adjourned. I'll let you know the new time and place when I'm not disgusted with the behavior of all parties involved anymore. In ten minutes everyone is out of here.” She waved the cries of protest away with a sharp gesture of her hand and turned around. Two generals followed her while she was muttering to herself, “Sabotaged by vermin spat out from the sewers! I'd rather shake a human's hand than staying in one room with stinking vorcha, dead or alive!”

Arek stared after her, arguing with himself if he should take her out himself, or tell Mojo to end her with one precise shot. Someone bumped into him – Meyrani.

“Let's get out of here while everyone's still too worked up to pay attention to us.”

He looked a last time at the dead vorcha. The few minutes he had known they existed had been too short for him to do anything for them. Heat was welling up in him, pushing tears of anger into his eyes. He had witnessed so many times how so-called intelligent and empathic races stomped over vorcha, mistreated them and then mocked them for their rage, and again, he hadn't done anything to help. That monster of an admiral was right, this was ridiculous – how should he help to save the galaxy if he couldn't make a difference for two scared kids? He took a deep breath, regretting it when the smell of warm blood streamed into his nose. He tore his eyes away from them and followed Meyrani outside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by Blastedking.](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/138302306703/kret-and-rerr-and-a-very-tense-situation-as)
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> Thank you so much ♥


	21. First Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to regroup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, everyone! It's Friday!
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> Have I showed you guys the [sweet art our even sweeter friend Schnaut had drawn for BK and me as a Christmas gift?](http://masseffectmayhem.tumblr.com/post/136768865631/ligeia-maloy-blastedking-schnaut-drew)

“Fill me in.” Meyrani was walking next to Arek. The sudden end of the gathering had taken everyone by surprise, and many heads were sticking together, eagerly whispering, and always generous with insults towards the other group. Nobody paid much attention to single individuals. Meyrani, however, preferred safe over sorry and stayed in her role - she avoided looking at Arek and walked a step in front of him, as though they just happened to walk into the same direction.

“Where did these vorcha come from? What was so important about them that you almost blew our cover?”

“That’s a good question,” another voice growled through Arek’s still open com channel. Mojo. His voice was different from before - more distant, hollow. So he had left the roof after all.

“I don’t know where they came from,” Arek pressed through his lips. A deep frown darkened his face. His stare was fixed to the ground ahead, and more than once he bumped into one of the Cerberus members. He was deaf to the indignant remarks - he stomped forwards without an apology even when he first walked into a woman, and then stepped on her foot. His clenched fists were stuffed into the pockets of his suit.

“Ask Amalthea about the details. All I know is that they were kids, scared and that nobody’s giving a fuck when they were fucking executed.”

“I don’t think that it was a tasteful or necessary action, but I’m surprised about your reaction, Arek.” Meyrani scratched her chin, throwing a curious look at her human friend. “After all, they were just-”

“Not you, too!” Arek shoved a protesting human out of the way. He took a long step and caught up with Meyrani, facing her with his livid, green eyes. “Yeah, they’re different, and their culture isn’t really developed yet, compared to us. So what? They’re sentient, they feel pain, and they’re very aware of right and wrong.”

“Maybe, but they’re also-”

“Aggressive and violent,” Arek interrupted her again. “Did you see how these terrified kids were treated? How everyone talked about them and their species? Are you really surprised that they don’t spend the few years they have on begging for our kindness?” Arek was yelling. He had shoved himself in front of Meyrani, who took a step back. His cheeks were glowing and he was shaking an angry fist. She wasn’t in danger of being attacked, but it was rare to see Arek angry like this.

“Calm down, Arek.” She put a hand on his arm while speaking with a gentle, almost purring voice. “I’m not very partial of the vorcha, but I admit I haven’t looked at it from the point of view you suggested. I’ll look into this once we’re back.”

His anger didn’t withstand her gentle voice and the kind gesture. The tension vanished. His fists drop, leaving his arms hanging by his sides. He looked away, his face still red.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just… I feel so bad for these kids.”

“So do I. Keep in mind that there wasn’t anything you could do.” Her gentle expression changed to a fake frown when a passing turian nudged his companion and pointed at her and Arek. “Let’s get away from here, some are already looking into our direction.” She gave Arek a push as though she wanted to get him out of his way.

With haughty steps she walked on, winking at him when she passed him. She had returned to her role within a second, and Arek was grateful that she broke the charade for his sake when he needed a friendly word. She was a great friend. While he walked behind her he wished he was satisfied with her friendship. He didn’t need a certain other turian. Yet, the unwelcome fascination had drilled its persistent tendrils into his mind and demanded him to also befriend Mojo.

They were crossing the yard and on their way to the parking lot to find their shuttle when Amalthea called in.

“If you can slip away, come to the basement, asap! Mojo’s already here.” There Arek had his explanation why Mojo’s voice had been so different.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, everyone’s too busy with avoiding to be spied on to spy on others.” Arek gave a hoarse laugh, he didn’t bother with trying to hide his contempt for the humans and turians he had encountered today. He nodded at Meyrani and walked a half circle that led him away from their shuttle. He checked his omni-tool, impatiently grumbling about something he had forgotten at the lobby in case anybody was wasting a moment of attention to him.

The yard was almost empty, the lobby cleared except for three or four turians. He couldn’t see them well as he hurried to the side door, but he was sure he recognized the admiral’s uniform.

By the Gods, he hated that woman. He couldn’t remember that he had ever despised someone - human or alien - before like he despised her. He had witnessed how vorcha had been mistreated and abused before, hell, even humans, by aliens and their own kind. But most of the time anger was involved, alcohol, or pure stupidity. Nothing of that applied to Trelan. She was smart and was able to restrain herself. Or rather - she was cunning and calculating, and of cold cruelty. If there were more turians like her in this galaxy, and if they supported this mysterious cause the conservative turians and Cerberus were working on - nice prospects!

He slipped around the corner and out of view of the few remaining guests who were taking their time to return to their shuttles. He hurried through the open door leading to the basement. Meyrani arrived while his eyes were still getting used to the dark.

“Do you think it’s safe to use some light?” he whispered.

“Most likely. Thea and Mojo are already down here if we had to avoid danger they’d have told us.” That was sensible enough to his ears. The next second, a biotic aura flickered around his body. It wasn’t as strong as Amalthea’s, but it was bright enough to let them see the way ahead. The darkness shrunk back from the cool, blue light, its black shadows dancing around the pair as if they were in anger that they were confined to the walls.

“I smell blood,” Meyrani said. Arek nodded. Fresh blood, and something else, only a weak scent - the kind of unpleasant sweetness that seemed harmless now, but already promised disgust once they came close enough. They left the corridor and found themselves in an empty room. Amalthea was waiting for them in one of the door frames.

“Over here! Did anybody see you coming down here?”

“Don’t think so. Come on, Rani!”

“Sneak through dark basements wearing this thing and we’ll talk again, Mr. Fox.” Meyrani made an exasperated noise, bent down and ripped the sides of her dress apart.

“Much better!” Giving Arek haughty look and a grin, she walked past him with wide strides, her flat shoes tapping lightly over the concrete floor.

“Nice legs!” Arek whistled, trotting after her and Amalthea.

“Thank you. I’m honored, after all, isn’t there another pair of turian legs you’d like to compliment on?”

“Oh, I think yours will do for now.” Arek laughed over the sting her words shot into his stomach. He liked a bit of fun on his expense, nothing - except sex - shared warmth among friends like a good joke. Maybe he could genuinely laugh over this one once he had resolved the messed up situation between him and Mojo.

“Keep the banter for later. We don’t have much time until someone’s going to check where the professor is.” Amalthea had led them into the next room. A ceiling light was flickering, shedding cold light over the gruesome scene.

“Fuck, right! You said he’s dead earlier.” Arek’s thought had been wrapped up with the immediate danger for the vorcha, and with their death that had followed. He had forgotten about the mission until Meyrani’s act had remembered him where they were, and why. The professor and his fate had slipped his mind.

Two mauled bodies were lying on the floor. A glance at their bodies was enough to imagine what had happened to them. Arek recognized one of the men as Professor Lancer from the intel they had received, despite the blood that covered most of his torso and face. He didn’t know the second man, only that he was a guard from Cerberus, as the blood-soaked uniform told. Mojo was kneeling beside him. He had tied something that looked like a belt around the stump growing from the guard’s left shoulder. The rest of the arm was lying between the guard and the professor.

“Does any of you princesses have some medigel with you, by any chance?” Mojo growled without lifting his head. He pulled the belt tighter without much success - the blood was still streaming over the floor. Arek took a closer look and shuddered. Claws had cut straight lines across the man’s chest like a hot fork over butter. Half of his face was missing - skin and flesh had been ripped off and were flapping by the side of the guard’s throat. The worst, however, was to see his chest rising and sinking.

The man was still alive, and following their code of honor, they had to do everything to keep him alive, or, in this case - away from the end of his suffering.

“Sorry, this thing didn’t come with pockets.” Meyrani tugged and pulled her dress back in place around her hips. Arek fished a small, square box from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to Mojo.

“Feeling safer when I have at least a bit of the good stuff with me. But I fear you need a truckload for that. Thea, can’t we just…”

“Let him go? Arek, you know the rules.” She sighed while she watched Mojo using what medigel he had, more an act for the protocol than efficient help. “If we got him out of here, maybe he’d have a chance.”

“Or if we somehow keep him alive until somebody of his people come for him. Then it’d be their problem,” Mojo growled and tossed the empty box back at Arek, who caught it midair. Red fingerprints covered the white plastic. He flinched and shoved it back into his pocket.

“That’s all I can do.” Mojo stood up. He picked his gloves from the table and used them to wipe his hands.

“Your poor vorcha did a thorough job with this guy. And Lancer.” Arek shook his head, holding back a sharp reply. He took a deep breath, wishing he hadn’t when the smell of blood flooded his lungs, along with another stench. He recognized it, now that the source had to be close. Death and decay. He was shuddering from a wave of disgust, which was stronger than the anger that wanted to boil up in him.

“See, I know that many vorcha are aggressive. What _you_ don’t seem to know is that they need a reason to freak out like this!”

“Freak out. Nice way to put this.” Mojo pointed at the two blood-covered men.

“Instead of arguing,” Amalthea went between them, “why don’t you guys just take a peek through that door?”

Mojo and Arek exchanged a look and shrugged.

The door hadn’t been shut - the horrifying stench was flowing through a narrow creak into the room. Arek’s neck hair was rising. He tried to scratch the itching skin of his arms through his jacket, watching with bated breath when Mojo pushed the door open. He slammed his hand over his mouth as the sight was revealed. He blinked back the water in his eyes and the acid that was rising up his throat.

“Fuck!” Mojo took a step back, his eyes fixed on the pile of vorcha corpses. Dead, dull eyes were staring back at them, distorted faces seemed to beacon them forwards with their grotesque grins.

Meyrani had moved behind Mojo and Arek and was the first to recover her speech, “The general wasn’t lying when he said they hunted down the whole clan. Disgraceful!”

“Do you think these guys were part of this?” Mojo had torn himself away from the view and returned to the guard. The man’s breathing was shallow, blood and vomit were gargling in the back of his throat.

“Can’t tell for sure.” Amalthea shrugged. “But I think they knew. There’s no way they were clueless, walking around down here.”

“I see.” Mojo pulled his rifle from his back and aimed it at the guard’s head.

“Mojo, don’t! What do you think you’re doing?!” Amalthea jumped to his side and put her hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

“Showing more mercy than he and his friends did with those critters. More than he deserves.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Mojo,” Meyrani hissed. “You know what will happen when they find a corpse here, murdered by a weapon from the Alliance.”

“They’ll find a corpse killed by a Viper, registered on Omega years ago, by a dead Batarian.”

“Put the damn weapon down or I’ll make you!” Amalthea was standing between him and the guard. Her biotic aura was glowing, a ball of energy was forming around her hand. Mojo growled, and followed her order.

“I’ll deal with your illegal weapon when we’re back on the ship. Arek? Are you okay?” Her voice was melting from harsh to worried when she looked at her friend. Arek’s face was sickly grey, his eyes distant and hard. His body was convulsing. He swallowed against his screams, or the urge to vomit. Probably both.

“I’m fine, thanks.” His mouth twitched into a thin smile. “Mojo, you better listen to her. There’s no reason to shoot him. He’s as good as dead anyway, why making things easier for him by ending his pain?”

“Would be satisfying.” Mojo put the Viper back into the holster.

“Footsteps! Somebody’s coming!” Meyrani backed away from the bodies and pressed herself against the wall, next to the door leading to the room they’d been coming from. She moved aside when Amalthea joined her, giving her the spot closest to the door. Mojo and Arek took cover at the other side.

The steps were coming closer.

They were heavy but in no rush. They stomped on the floor as though the intruder was frustrated or in anger. They paused a few times, only for seconds.

Somebody was talking, but the steps only spook of one person. Also, nobody was answering the voice that became more indignant the closer it came. A few moments later they saw a flashlight flicker. The beam of light jumped from one corner of the next room to the other.

The sound of steps continued. He was growling to himself without bothering to keep his voice down.

“This dried up gryar! Our primarch will hear from this once this is over! This is outrageous! Degrading me to that human’s babysitter!” It was without a doubt a male voice. Deep and hoarse with years, with the flanging that was typical for turians.

Arek gave Mojo a nudge, gesturing him to lower his head.

“General Trikan,” he whispered. “He was the initiator of the slaughter.” Mojo nodded and turned his head back towards the door. Amalthea was waving her hands from the other side, urging them to be quiet. Her aura flickered, and a wavering blue veil was slowly rinsing from her fingers.

“Stasis,” Arek mouthed when Mojo gave him a questioning glance. The safest plan - a biotic stasis would paralyze the general long enough for them to escape before he realized what was going on.

All he had to do was walking through the door.

His shadow fell into the room. The last few steps took an eternity. One polished, dark blue boot crossed the threshold. Arek heard him breathe, the air rattling in the man’s throat.

Amalthea lifted her arm, but Mojo was faster.

“Palaven bastard!” he snarled. The general’s head jerked around, and the rear of Mojo’s rifle was smashed into his face.

Trikan staggered backward, back out of the room, holding his face. Blood trickled over his hands, spurting from the deep creeks in his platings and out of his nose.

“Mojo!” Amalthea cried out, but Mojo had already launched forwards. He took a big swing and slammed the Viper a second time against the general’s head. Arek shuddered at the cracking of bones and plates.

He, Meyrani and Amalthea hurried after Mojo, watching him aim again. The third hit forced Trikan to his knees. He removed his hands from his face when he looked up, his mandibles twitching in disgust.

“A scarface! No honor, no home!” He spat at Mojo. Two teeth were broken, and his mouth was overflowing with saliva and blood.

“Then remember to tell the Spirits that this dishonorable scarface sent you to their world!” He raised the rifle, but a glowing ball of energy knocked the general down.

The last swing went through the air. Mojo was pulled forwards, stumbling over the motionless turian as he fought for his balance. He jerked around, facing Amalthea, but Arek was standing in front of her.

“If they had to investigate the death of a decorated general who’d been clubbed to a pulp you’d get into trouble. Now it’s self-defense. IF he remembers enough details about you.”

“Enough! Let’s get out of here! They won’t wait long to check why he isn’t returning or calling!” Amalthea gave Arek a push to set him into motion and started running. Arek, Mojo, and Meyrani hurried to keep up with her, ignoring the unconscious general. Most of the invited guests had probably left the moon already or were waiting for their shuttles to take off without a collision. They wouldn’t have to face an army of treacherous turians, but it was unlikely that the general had stayed behind alone. However, only two or three highly decorated turian military legends, Admiral Trelan probably among them, would mean enough trouble, if they identified them as soldiers of the Alliance. These days, diplomacy was crucial, and for now, Trelan and her companions were still seen as war heroes. Their word could have an ugly impact on the relationship between humans and turians.

Amalthea signaled them to wait and slipped through the door, checking if the air was clear outside. The remaining three were waiting in the dark corridor behind the entrance, listening whether any steps were coming closer, friend or foe.

“You didn’t have to interfere. I’d have handled that bastard myself,” Mojo was muttering behind Arek.

“Yeah, and earned yourself a ticket to hell for bludgeoning an unarmed general to death. If you want to find a way out of the squad you have to come up with something smarter,” Arek hissed back, noting that Meyrani in front of him was slightly leaning back, tilting her head.

“Sure, and next you’re telling me you knocking him out with your blue bubbles was an act of charity in my favor.”

“Mojo, after what I’ve heard and seen down here and upstairs, I’d have ripped these bastards apart, and taken my sweet time doing so. If given the choice. So yes, I certainly didn’t push him out of your way to save his sorry ass.” Arek turned around, meeting Mojo’s eyes with a merciless stare. “Do you get my drift?”

“Whatever.” Mojo leaned back his head and stared at the ceiling. While Arek continued to stare, he pulled his rifle from his back and began to inspect the frame for any damages.

“You’re welcome,” Arek said after a time. “And I thank you for getting fired up about what happened, even if they were _just vorcha._ ” He put the last words in air quotes, underlining them with a growl in the back of his throat.

“I don’t get what’s your thing with them - and I don’t care.” He took a look through the scope, giving a grunt. He bent the scope with precise force and took a second look, this time, followed by a satisfied nod. “Doesn’t mean I condone senseless cruelty and genocide.”

“Should have known,” Arek replied, smiling the first time since the young vorcha brothers had shown up.

“You should. Don’t you agree, kid?” Jerking up his head, Mojo glared over Arek’s shoulder.

“What?” Meyrani jumped on the spot, taking a hasty step towards the door. “I didn’t overhear anything!”

“No, of course not.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mojo.” Meyrani lifted her chin, the plates above her eyes raising when she shot a smug glare at him. Incoming signals to their omni-tools ended the conversation before Mojo could answer.

Amalthea was waiting for them outside. The yard was empty. Light was still shining from inside the building, but they couldn’t see anyone from their position.

Meyrani with her torn dress, together with Arek, whose white suit was stained with dirt after their trip to the basement, Mojo with his Viper and a hood pulled over his eyes, his clothes smeared with blood, and finally, a muscular asari wearing bloodstained armor - the shortest glance at them would be enough to alert the remaining visitors.

“Things didn’t go exactly like planned, but so far, we didn’t fail. We got the chip, some info, and our cover wasn’t blown,” Amalthea counted their status.

“We could keep out of their sight by climbing the lab, walking across the roof, and climbing down at the other side.”

Mojo shrugged, but Arek and Meyrani protested.

“No more climbing, please!”

“What else do you want me to do in this thing? Varren hunting? Taming Thresher Maws?”

“Wrestling reapers is also an option,” Amalthea remarked dryly, and sighed, “I guess across the yard is shorter. If we hurry they shouldn’t have a chance to get a good look at us, even when they notice us. Let’s go!”


	22. Wanted Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the Hamburg, after a hard day? That calls for company and drinks! If Mojo doesn't want to join - his loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, we managed to reach 51 kudos! Thank you so much, everyone! Have a silly chapter in return ♥

“We’ll reach the rendezvous point in 15 minutes and 35.5 seconds. If we switch to FTL now.” Meyrani checked the radar for any activity in their proximity. A few small dots were scattered across the screen, moving at a similar speed like their shuttle, but none close enough to see them, or heading their way.

“Do it,” Amalthea called from the back. “We’re just one of many other Cerberus owned Kodiaks in the system on their way home. It’s more suspicious when we linger in this orbit longer than necessary.” Meyrani nodded. She adjusted the course for the last time. Satisfied with the data, she waited for the FTL drives to warm up, initiating the eezo exposure. The shuttle moved from standard speed to faster than light within fragments of a second. The small crew only felt a short jolt, and time and space inside the shuttle returned back to normal.

“Say what you want about Cerberus, they’re far more generous with comfort than the Alliance.” Arek nestled against the leather bolster with his back and stretched his legs.

“You’ve never been part of a turian military unit,” Mojo muttered, his eyes closed and the arms crossed. He had made himself comfortable as well on the padded bench and had appeared to be sleeping since the take-off.

“Now that you mentioned it yourself, why don’t you tell us a bit about your time there,” Arek jumped at the opportunity with an eager grin. Mojo lifted one lazy eyelid and gave a snort.

“Lousy food, hard seats and beds, grim morals. The end.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Meyrani called over her shoulder. “True, no luxury like this, and less comfortable than the Hamburg. I’d say, simple and efficient.”

“You’re talking about the standard military, but trust me, the Armiger Legion is a different caliber.” Mojo had both eyes open, tilting his head towards Meyrani. “The worse the provisions, the better the army. There you have your reason why the Asshole Legion is said to be the best.”

“And you were one of them,” Arek grinned when Mojo rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Tough luck on my part.”

“You were one of the Ghost Infiltrators, right?” Arek drilled on. “What does that mean? I know you’re a sniper, but I guess there’s more to wearing a title like Ghost?”

“More front action, fancy equipment. What’s your business with the vorcha?”

“Eh?” The sudden turn caught Arek by surprise, leaving him too dumbfounded to answer the question.

“Don’t play dumb. I get why she stood up for them, after seeing what she saw in the basement.” He pointed at Amalthea, who was listening in silence, even when Mojo spoke about her. “But you didn’t see what she had seen, but reacted as strongly, if not stronger. What’s your business with the vorcha?” he repeated, his eyes resting on Arek’s face. His cheeks changed to an angry pink, his forehead was knitted into a frown.

“What these assholes did to the clan was sick, and you know what’s as sick? That nobody will give much of a fuck if we tell the story.” Arek’s feet were tapping on the shuttle floor, his fingers clawed into the fabric of his pants. “To make a long story short, it pisses me off how vorcha are treated. They’re a fascinating race, with more potential than anyone gives them credit for. Instead, they’re hated, mistreated, abused and killed. By the more empathic, intelligent races. Yeah, right!” He was raising his voice as he spoke on, spitting out the last words with contempt, his face pulled into a grimace of disgust. Mojo rose his eye plates, his mandibles were moving slowly, displaying an expression Arek failed to read.

“Quite passionate. Reasons?”

“Many. What was your real name again?” Arek shot back, and Mojo burst out with a laugh.

“Touché. At least we’re entertaining our Miss Leader. Hope she enjoyed the show.” Mojo resumed his relaxed position, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

“Your Miss Leader enjoys this indeed.” Amalthea laughed. “Finally, you guys sound like a team should sound. Too bad you didn’t start like this weeks ago, but better now than never.”

“Don’t get too cozy back there!” Meyrani warned, joining Amalthea’s good mood with a chuckle. “Ending FTL now. We’re reaching the asteroid in less than four minutes, going to be picked up by one of our shuttles in ten!”

 

*

 

The rest of the flight went smoothly, without any occurrences or turbulences. They returned to the SSV Hamburg on schedule. A few laughs and cheeky whistles greeted them when Meyrani walked the shuttle hangar and the corridors with wide, proud strides. The parts of the skirt were flattering around her legs, revealing the partly plated skin from foot to above the knees. Others commented on the blood on Mojo’s hands and on Amalthea’s armor. A bold mechanic theorized that, instead of working on their mission, they had probably been too busy fighting and trying to kill each other. Arek’s glare and an unambiguous gesture with his middle finger shut the boy up.

They left the elevator once it reached the CIC deck, and were welcomed by a salarian. His skin was white with only a faint grey pattern above the eyes and down the throat. His face colored in a greenish hue when he blushed with apparent joy.

“They sent down a spy, and back comes a queen.” He walked past Amalthea and headed straight for Meyrani. He took her hand in his, giving a little bow. “I’m glad you’re safe, my dear.”

“Sellrin.” Meyrani gave his hand a squeeze. Her back was straight and proud, flashing a dignified, regal posture her partner had commented on. Her eyes, though, sparkled with a warm glow. “I hope you weren’t worried. Also, I hope you’ll still enjoy the sight of me once I changed back to being myself.”

“Your sight is aesthetically pleasing in every outfit your choose. I wasn’t worried more than the other times. But I hoped for your soon return. We were working in the lab all night on Project 24.3/b. The results are - surprising, and I’d appreciate your opinion before I draw a final conclusion.” He wasn’t wasting time as the words spurted out of him, his large, round eyes fixed on Meyrani’s face. Her mandibles fluttered with excitement, it was becoming difficult for her to maintain her serious pose.

“I’m coming to the lab as soon as we’re done with our report.”

“I’m glad.” After giving her upper arm an amiable pat, he hurried past her and disappeared behind the doors of the elevator.

“You forget to tell him that you’ll also change before running after him.” Arek patted her other arm, mimicking Sellrin’s affectionate gesture.

“Clothes can wait. There’s science to do.” With a haughty wave of her hand, she brushed Arek off and stepped forward. “Come on, the captain is waiting.”

 

*

 

They had hardly left the briefing room when Meyrani darted off, heading for one of the lower decks containing the science laboratories. Arek and Amalthea laughed after her. Their mood was good. This had been one of the most positive talks with one of their superiors since the squad had been called into existence. The captain had listened calmly to their report, recording the details. He didn’t comment much and asked few questions, but in the end, he dispensed a few rare words of praise.

“Well, guess I’m off, too.” Amalthea checked the time on her omni-tool. “Whatever the hackers want from me, I hope they’ll be quick. I haven’t eaten since we’ve left here.” The hackers were scientists specialized in computer science and data retrieving, as far as the official job description went. It had a more positive ring to it than spying, hacking into communication channels and cracking security systems to see what potential enemies were hiding.

“No,” Mojo snapped when they were alone and Arek turned towards him.

“I didn’t say anything!” Arek protested, giving a guilty laugh, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yet.” They walked to the elevator together and watched the door closing. “Forget it, Turner,” Mojo continued. “Washing off the blood, food, sleep. Without your company.”

“Mojo, my dear friend-” Arek put weight on the last word, allowing no protest, “as much as my curiosity would love to shower with you, I have no time.” He held up his omni-tool, chuckling at Mojo’s surprised face. “Kalron asked me to see him in the mess. I’ll jump under the shower, put on some fresh clothes and be around someone who actually wants to have me around for a while. So, no need to worry.” He wasn’t able to read Mojo’s expression. He wasn’t smiling, but it wasn’t one of his angry glares or surprise.

“Okay.” His voice also lacked any aggression, he sounded as indifferent as though they had talked about the weather. The elevator stopped on the crew’s deck. They headed for their quarters, an awkward tension forming between them. Arek had forgotten about Mojo’s words when the vorcha showed up, but once they were on their way back to the Hamburg, the memory of the conversation sneaked back into his head, poking and teasing him as he replayed every word in his mind. Caught between hurt and feeling challenged, a new idea had grown - Mojo had been right. At least with some points. Arek’s plan had been to befriend Mojo, to make him trust him, sharing his dark secrets along with his name, and then - some magic would happen and change the grumpy, lonely turian into… someone else. Not exactly a turian Arek as Mojo had claimed, but a cheerful someone who enjoyed being around people, who would find delight in parties and company, and have fun, casual sex now and then with him. Which - painfully sounded like a turian version of Arek.

“Mojo!” He smiled when the turian turned his head. Another déjà-vu, and like before, the situation was alike, but the atmosphere different.

“What?” A simple question, without much enthusiasm or curiosity, but also without aloof sarcasm.

“Well…” Suddenly, Arek felt stupid. He had been thinking of something since they had climbed into their shuttle, leaving the Kodiak with the Cerberus insignia behind on that asteroid. The idea had sounded good, in theory, and in his brain, but putting it in words was different. Well, he had to say something now, Mojo was waiting.

“Do you know storage room no. 2, cargo deck?”

“Yes. What about it?” Finally, some emotion in his deep voice, as though Mojo was wondering where this was going. Arek couldn’t blame him for that.

“It holds parts for ship maintenance. Floor and wall panels, kitchen units, beds, stuff like that,” he hurried on, giving Mojo no chance to interrupt. “It’s full of big containers, stacked up to the ceiling, or so it looks like when you walk in. You can get behind them, if not too much has changed since the last time I was there. There’s a window behind them, to the right of the entrance. I know, it’s not a roof, and there’s just space outside. But I don’t think many know about it, and there’s some kind of window sill wide enough to sit on, or on the crates. Craig Dunham is in charge there, if you tell him I sent you… might be worth a try, and as you love climbing and being alone so much… That’s all.” Arek finished with a gasp for air. Mojo was staring at him, with a similar unreadable face as before. Arek shrugged, kept a straight face, and turned around, continuing his way to his quarter.

“Thank you,” an astonished voice muttered behind him, and Arek walked on with a smile.

 

***

 

“The professor was dead, killed by vorcha, and because you wanted to save the same vorcha, you almost blew the whole mission,” Kalron summarized what he had just heard. “The party ended before the juicy part started. It really takes an Arek Turner to call a mission a success after all that.”

“It wasn't our fault that Lancer ended as Chop Suey. And it wasn't us who put the poor kids through hell.” Arek scowled at the glass between his hands as though it contained the blame of all the things that were going wrong with the galaxy. He took a sip. The same old beer, as always.

“We got the chip with Lancer's research data and gathered some names and information. Considering the given circumstances, this was the best we could do.”

“And _you_ didn't cause any trouble, nor did Mojo.” The drell laughed, raising his glass.

“Cheers to that!” They clinked their glasses, and Arek drowned his unhappy thoughts until the beer lost its stale flavor.

“You should have eaten something if you plan to go on like this.” Kalron tapped against Arek's empty glass once he had put it down. “At least ask for a snack when you go for glass number 4. Before your drunk head thinks it's a good idea to clash with Mojo again. Although...” A wide grin appeared on the drell's face, revealing the small gap between the front teeth that Arek thought so charming since the day they've met. “I heard that things have been changing between you two. I have to say, your curiosity for turian dick must be overwhelming when you're going after _him_.”

“Rumours! Why do you even listen to that stupid gossip!” Arek shut his mouth. The quote ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’ came to his mind. As fond as he was of him, Arek couldn’t deny that Kalron was an awful gossip. He wouldn’t tell him anything, otherwise, the whole ship would know what had happened between him and Mojo. Unless Kalron applied heavy torture, Arek’s lips were, for once, sealed.

“So I can tell you what I’ve heard.” Kalron chuckled, unimpressed. “So, what's going on between you? Come on, Arek, don't let your friend die as an ignorant fool.”

“We've clashed, fucked stuff up, and realized it's not helpful if we try to murder each other all the time. Since he tries to do his part of the job he's good to have along, and that's all that's going on.” _Sorry, Kal. I'd seduce you anytime when you smile at me like that, but I can't tell you that he fucked me, doesn't want to do it again and that I'm frustrated because of that._

“Are you sure?” Kalron wasn't that easily thrown off track. “My gut tells me there’s more, and you know that my gut is rarely wrong.”

“Kal, you're as bad as Rani.” Arek chuckled and stood up to got the overdue refill. He swayed for a second. Okay, Kalron was right, he should eat something. He looked over the display of sandwiches and other handy snacks, a nice vary of different foods, levo and dextro, and one or two specific ones for every race on board. He recognized the blue and green cubes of a jelly-like texture, a popular treat for drells. He ordered a small plate for Kalron when the kitchen help returned with his beer.

“But that's the last one, Arek!” the stout, blonde woman scolded, waving her finger. “Go to the lounge when you plan to get sloshed.” She put the bowl with jelly-cubes on a tray, next to the beer. “No grub for you?”

“Nah, I'm good. Thanks, Lottie, you're a darling. We leave after we're done with this. Promised.” He put on one of his charming smiles, cocking his head.

“You're 20 years too late to have this work on me. Get lost, you rascal!” She gave a rough laugh, held up her strong chin, and threatened him by swinging an empty tray.

He turned around, and his smile froze. Kalron wasn't sitting alone at their table. Great, he had promised his friend to share a few drinks and catch up with current gossip, where the hell should he get an excuse from now? He looked at the tray he was holding. No, there was no escape, unless he found another excuse to why he was carrying drell food with him only to dispose of it.

“Hey, Barat. You're here, too.” He greeted the drell with a polite nod. “Here, for you. Because you're such a good friend.” He put the bowl with its jiggling content in front of Kalron, picked his beer and sat down.

“I remember you liking these.” He sipped on his drink, his eyes not moving away from Kalron's face and his guilty smile.

“Didn't I tell you to get yourself something to eat?” The corners of Kalron's mouth twitched, and he glanced at Barat.

Barat was above noticing the shift in the atmosphere at the table, Arek noticed as he caught a glimpse of the smiling drell who wouldn't stop looking at him. That, or he just didn't care.

“Not really hungry. Stuffed myself at that party.” Also, he wasn't in the mood to eat, not with the scared faces of the vorcha children still in his mind, and even less with Barat watching every little move he made. He didn't want food and that guy, he wanted beer and enjoyable company.

 _Is this how Mojo feels when I'm around him? If so, then I have to apologize big time to him._ The thought became a third reason why he didn't feel like eating.

“I apologize, I interrupted you. Your friendly chatter was too amiable to walk by. What were you guys talking about? Arek, how was your day? I heard you looked marvelous in your suit. It pains me that I missed the sight.”

“Should have seen Rani, she looked amazing. Still does. She hangs out around the labs if you want to see.” _Come on, leave already!_ His feeble attempt at sending Barat on his way went right over the drell’s head. Arek shifted on his seat. At least Kalron was with him, that made the situation slightly less uncomfortable. He’d give up on beer and sex for a month if he - if only for five minutes - possessed Mojo’s gift to tell people to fuck off in their faces.

 _Seriously, Barat, you creep me out. I_ _’m not interested, stop leering after my ass, or else! See, Arek, it’s so easy. Easy to be a cruel asshole to him._ He didn’t find any excuse to justify hurting Barat. He was polite, he was interested in him, unfortunately, in a way that Arek didn’t happen to think flattering. He couldn’t blame the drell for that. So, gently discouraging him it was.

“Oh damn!” Kalron jumped up, upsetting his chair. “Damn,” he repeated, picking up the chair and shoving it under the table. “Arek, I’m sorry! I forgot I have to see Dr. Wilson, in the med bay.” His eyes blinked at his hands, which were fumbling with the backrest of the chair.

“What? Kal!” Arek cried out in unhidden despair. “Now? _You_ called me, said you were in need of a drinking buddy! You can’t leave me alone with… with drinking!” That was close, but he had caught his tongue in time.

“I… mixed up the dates. Just remembered it was today, not tomorrow. Gotta go, you know how he is. Haha, I hope he won’t behead me, I’m late already. At least you aren’t alone with your last beer, right? Barat, help yourself. Ah, and thanks, Arek. I’ll treat you next time.” Without looking at Arek, Kalron turned on the spot and dashed out of the mess.

“How unfortunate,” Barat said in a tone that meant the opposite. He pulled the bowl with the drell dessert over to his place, poking one of the jelly cubes with a spoon. “So, so sweet, and so empty of nutritious value. But I admit, once in a while, I enjoy them. The taste of childhood.” Barat parted one of the cubes in two smaller halves, lifted the spoon to his lips, and caught the sweet treat with his tongue. He sucked slowly on it, trying to get a hold of Arek's eyes.

“You should try it, too,” he hummed with pleased satisfaction. “It's delicious.”

He refilled the spoon, but Arek shook his head, raising his hand, stopping Barat's attempt to feed him.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Doesn't really meet my taste,” Arek continued the innuendo, wishing Barat would understand.

“Oh, so this wouldn't be your first time, I see. Experience, what a fine quality in a man.” Barat pushed the bowl aside and leaned forward, reaching for Arek's hands.

Arek's fingers clenched around his glass and he raised it to his mouth before the drell's fingers could reach his.

“Ah, a long day, a long mission, always leaves me thirsty.” He smiled at Barat, leaning back in his chair. He was still holding his glass when he put it down at the edge of the table. To his relief, Barat didn't so far that he'd lean flatly across to touch him.

“I can only agree. A man deserves a fine drink and even finer company after he accomplished good work. Wait a moment!” Barat stood up. Arek shrieked back, fearing for a moment that the drell would fall around his neck. “I know what you need, no, what you deserve! I'll be back with you in a moment, don't run away, Arek.” He laughed, winked at him, and ran to the kitchen counter.

Arek sighed.

 _It's okay. It's only a drink. I hope. I'll drink it, thank him, and be on my way. No problem at all, and he can finally leave me alone with his invitation bullshit. Yeah, that's a good plan._ A voice in his mind whispered to forget about plans and politeness, he should take the chance and get out of here as fast as he could, that would give Barat the right message that even he couldn't brush aside.

A signal from his omni-tool ended the debate between him and himself. He checked the incoming message.

[I'm sorry, Arek. I had no choice. I'll make up for it, I promise!]

Kalron. So! Arek's hunch had been correct, this whole thing was a fix! Barat had used Kalron to lure him into a trap, and Kalron played along.

[You're truly a great friend, Kal. Selling me out to him like this >:I ]

[I'm really sorry... just let him pay for a few drinks, and then tell him you're not interested. That should settle this, okay?]

 _Okay, okay. Nothing is okay._ Arek deactivated the omni-tool without answering back. This was frustrating. After Mojo's rejection and the happenings during the mission, he had hoped for a few fun hours with one of his kindest friends. A few drinks, shallow chatter, and laughs was that too much to ask for? And how was he supposed to tell someone that he isn't interested in him when that someone doesn't give a fuck about his opinion? Again, he thought of Mojo, shuddering at the thought that Mojo might see him like he, Arek, saw Barat. But... they actually did have sex, and Mojo had enjoyed it, right? He had even said they'd do it again, right? So, his, Arek’s, company couldn't be that bad?

“Here you go, darling.” Barat put a drink in front of Arek. It was served in a wide cocktail glass, decorated with a fruit he didn't know. The liquid was of a bright green, wavering inside the glass more like syrup than like a liquid.

“Forgive me for leaving you behind like this for such a long time. This Lottie refused to serve us, so I had rushed to the lounge.”

 _He was gone that long?_ Arek raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't noticed. Damn, he missed a good opportunity to bail on him. Well, too late now, here he was, so he might as well follow Kalron's advice and drink Barat's credit chip empty. He lifted the glass to his lips, sniffing at the drink. Sweet, a bit grassy. Sweet grass with- honey? He took a sip. Yes, but also with a nice, tart note. Not bad, sweet, but still refreshing. He took another careful sip. He couldn't tell how potent this drink was. Cocktails from different cultures could taste amazingly, but also bear not so amazing surprises.

“It's called 'Weeping Heart'. A culinary classic from my homeworld,” Barat explained, watching Arek drinking with a smile. “I fear the names of the ingredients wouldn't tell you much, and that barkeeper insisted on mixing a lighter version. More... appropriate for humans. So don't you worry, my dear friend. This won't kill you, and your handsome body should be able to enjoy two or three of them before feeling the alcohol.”

Well, if he said so. Arek downed the whole drink. He shuddered at the sourness and grinned at the sweetness when he put down the glass. Barat said it wasn't the alcohol he was feeling, but he already was in a better mood. A nice cocktail. He put it on his mental list of drinks to order more often.

“Why don't you tell me about your day, dear.” Barat reached out again, placing his hands next to Arek's. This time, Arek didn't twitch away, but Barat also didn't push it. So close they almost touched, Barat listened with a smile when Arek began to talk.

 

*

 

“And then, the bitch shot them! Bamm! Just like that! ” Arek repeated again after he put the third glass down.

“Astonishing. How cruel of her.” Barat shook his head, his eyes even wider than usual with disgust. “This must have hurt you so much, dear.”

“You bet it did. Damn, I wish we could at least have given them a proper funeral or something. Do you still drink this?” He pointed at Barat's glass. The drell smiled and pushed it over to him. They had left the mess half of an hour ago when Lottie threatened to serve them for tomorrow's lunch if they dared to turn her holy halls into a bar. They had found two empty chairs in the lounge, on the wall opposite the bar counter. Barat was making sure that they didn't run out of drinks, and encouraged Arek to tell his story.

“Thanks, man!” He rose the glass and emptied it. Weeping Heart was on a good way to become his favorite drink. He felt a light dizziness in his head, emphasize on light, which wasn't unpleasant at all. Heat was rising in his body and flushed his cheeks as he poured out his heart to the drell, who was a surprisingly patient listener.

“You know, man, you aren't that bad. Guess judged ya wrong.” He leaned against the drell's shoulder, fluttering his eyes. “Let's be friends, yes?”

“Whatever you say, darling. Your wish is my command.” Smiling, Barat put his arm around Arek's shoulder.

“Ya know, I was really dumb.” Arek sat up, reaching for his glass, regarding it with disappointment when he found it empty. “Should have learned my lesson, from Mojo's mistake.”

“Mojo?!”

“Yes! Ya know, he hated me because he thought I was an asshole.” Arek leaned back, closing his eyes when the ceiling above him was spinning. “Then he got that I wasn't, and he stopped hating me. And now...” He gave a bitter laugh.

“We shouldn't talk about him, dear. Not when we're finally having time for each other.”

“No, no, it's okay, don't worry. It's just maddening, ya know? We finally got along.” He sighed, opening his eyes and staring into the abyss of whirling neon lights dancing with ceiling tiles. “And all of a sudden, he doesn't want to fuck me again because he thinks I'm too shallow. Barat, I know I'm shallow, but am I really _too_ shallow?” He turned his head towards the drell, his eyes sad and his smile gone. He yearned for a friendly face, missing the twitch of the corner of Barat's mouth, and the cold spark in his eyes.

“Mojo... again?! What does that...”

“Oh, right, of course you don't know.” Arek's somber mood broke apart into a giggle, he couldn't help finding the situation absurdly funny for some reason. “Yeah, we did… it. Don't tell anyone, okay? Damn, he was amazing.”

“I bet he was. You aren't... it’s not anything official, is it?”

“Nah!” Arek waved the thought away with his hand. “Nothing serious, not for me, ever. Just not my thing. Why limiting yourself to one person when you can share the fun with many?”

“Don't you think it would be wonderful to find your one true love? That would make you forget about every other man – or woman – you've been with? Only desiring this one person, who loves you, and accepts you for who you are?” Barat took Arek's hand in his, leading it to his lips. Gentle, large and black eyes rested on Arek, while his thumb was stroking over the back of Arek's hand.

Arek stared at him, his eyes blank, his forehead slightly furrowed while the thoughts were working through the mist of alcohol and sweetness in his head.

“Do you really don't know this feeling, dear Arek? When you just have to do what your heart tells you, to pursue the happiness that taunts you, just inches away from your loving hand?” Barat moved closer, his face only inches away from Arek's.

“Not really, sorry.” Arek shrugged, feeling a little lost. The dizziness was thickening, and the heat was burning him from inside.

“To be honest, all I want now is getting my hands on that damn turian dick and...” Suddenly, he sat up, his back straight, the shoulders pulled back. His gaze was lost in the distance, and the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“Arek, you...” Barat's voice was coming from far away. Arek hardly noticed how he was pushed back against the sofa, and how Barat was leaning over him.

“I got it!” He jumped up, knocking Barat from the sofa.

“You're right! I just have to go after what I want, and right now, I want to be fucked by that fucked up turian! Thanks, man!” He had hurried out of the lounge before Barat had crawled back onto the sofa.

“What are you looking at? Mind your own business!” the drell snapped at the people staring at him. They turned around, resuming their chatter, Barat and Arek now being a part of it.

“Countenance, Barat, countenance.” The drell stretched his back and pulled his clothes back in order. He waited a moment, reassuring himself that nobody was watching him. Finally, he stood up, crossing the lounge with his head held high.

“Water,” he ordered when the barkeeper glanced his way.

“Didn't go according to plan, eh? Well, too bad I refused to serve you the regular mix.” Patrick smirked at him, adding insult to injury. Of course, there was nothing going on in this damn place that escaped this curious barkeeper's eyes.

“Is this your way to treat a poor man’s broken heart?”

 


	23. Last Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't a nice, sweet-tempered and indifferent turian just watch a movie in peace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut in this chapter, yikes! :D
> 
> Like the last time - if you don't enjoy human/turian smut for whatever reason let me know here or on tumblr (masseffectmayhem.tumblr.com), and I'll give you a naughty-free summery of those points that might be plot relevant from now on.
> 
> For all the others - have fun!

“ _Say what again, motherfucker, this one dares you, this one double dares you!”_

Mojo chuckled, pushing himself into a more comfortable position. He took a sip from the bottle of water he had sneaked into his bed, his eyes not leaving his data pad. Right now, Blasto was holding three guns in his tentacles, waving them up and down in front of a shivering group of young batarians and vorcha.

He listened to Blasto threatening them, and one of the vorcha stuttered a reply. He said his lines, he waved his arms with a theatrical similar to Blasto, he was shaking with fear and his eyes were wide open with a scared, haunted look. He was as over the top as the big star, but he did a good job at that, Mojo had to admit. He was acting, he remembered what he had to say, he knew what to do, and when.

Dumb animals couldn't act.

Vorcha, these persistent, loud creatures, were everywhere, obnoxious and colorful. When Mojo heard about them, he thought of the filthy brawlers on Omega, who slept in the dirt and picked their food from the streets or trash cans, more often than not fighting with each other over their disgusting meal. The unlucky fellows that were caught by gang members and beaten into submission weren't much more pleasant, with their thirst for battles and blood. But... being locked up, starved, and beaten by a dozen of krogans until they learned that listening and fighting was their only hope of survival wasn't a life choice these critters made for themselves.

He had seen them work. A vorcha was part of the team of mechanics that put back together a sky cab he had once crashed. It wasn't the first time he saw one acting along Blasto. Yet, those impressions had never stuck to his memory. Arek had a point, there was something unjust engraved in the behavior of the different species towards the vorcha. Sure, those two kids had mauled two men without mercy, but... wasn't he trying to do the same once he realized what had happened before? Amalthea praised his outburst in presence of the captain as a strong sense of justice - what a nice euphemism - after the sight of the slaughter. While the vorcha children, whose family and friends were murdered in front of their eyes, were nothing but savages. Something wasn't right here.

That wasn't all, however, not from Arek's side. There was a story behind his passionate interest in this crazy species. Of course, Mojo didn't care, but he was curious...

“Dammit.” He rewound the last few minutes of the movie. His thoughts had wandered, and he was missing a few of the best moments. It was unexpected, though, that Arek would tell him about a secret spot on the ship, where he could find a few calm moments of solitude. He hadn't checked it out right away, but it was the first entry of his list for tomorrow. Today, he just wanted to relax with a movie.

Right. The movie. Back to Blasto. The cutting had improved a lot since the new director had taken over. Blasto was bossing Blasto and Blasto around, how to clean their car from splattered brain matter, and it almost looked like three different hanar were interacting with each other. Mojo was dying for the release of “Blasto – Panic on the Titanic”. He wasn't much interested in romance flicks, but couldn't wait to see how Blasto interacted with his love interest, played by – Blasto. The big star in love with himself, this was too meta to miss.

The curtain separating his bed from the rest of the room moved. Mojo jerked up, hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Fuck... what the?!” Rubbing his head, he watched as a figure squeezed itself past the curtain, climbed into his bed, and crouched to his feet.

“Hey, Mojo. Hope I don't interrupt you at anything important.” Arek flashed a wide grin at him.

“You... just sneaked into my bed! What I was doing or not is not the point here! What the hell are _you_ doing here?!” The nerve of that guy! Or did thinking about him summoned him? One could never be too sure about what biotics were capable of and what not!

Arek laughed, rekindling Mojo’s old suspicion of biotics and mind reading. He grunted, less at Arek, more at the cascade of silly thoughts flooding his skull. Then, his mind froze - Arek was crawling up to him, moving between Mojo's legs.

Mojo's upper body was propped up on his elbows. The wall was right behind him, there was no space to move out of Arek's way. He watched him coming closer, with no idea how to escape whatever was going to happen. He could kick him out of his bed, yes, but...

“Are... are you drunk?”

Arek was straddling him, the slightly flushed face above him. There was something unsettling about the determined grin, but Mojo didn't smell much alcohol, and Arek's movements were far from clumsy.

“Not really. Had a few drinks, but I feel fine. Guess Patrick forgot to add the alcohol to the cocktails.” He chuckled. He was half lying on top of Mojo's chest. Mojo felt the weight of Arek's body on top of him, and the warmth of the human's skin through his thin shirt. Arek's groin, however, was a bit too close to his own, and he doubted that the light pressure was accidental.

His mandibles twitched at the gentle touch from Arek's hand. Careful fingers glided over his face, feeling for the plates, the rough surface. They wandered over the back of his nose, the line of his mouth, and along his left mandible.

Mojo held still, his breathing shallow. His mind, overrun with thoughts and fears in search for an excuse a second ago, was blank.

He hardly felt the touches, they were so light, but he didn't dare to break through Arek's silent wondering.

Arek hesitated, then he followed the pattern of scars that had taken the place of Mojo's lost face markings.

“They... don't hurt anymore, right?”

“No.” He hardly breathed. _Don't come closer. Spirits, don't let him come closer._ What was he thinking, of what use were the Spirits right now? If he wanted him to stop, he better stopped him himself. He raised his hand, ready to push him away. He touched Arek's shoulder, stroking over it. One finger moved along the curve of Arek's throat, the talon gently gliding over the soft skin. A shudder ran through the light human body on top of him.

Suddenly, Arek's head dived down. Mojo tensed, then he felt Arek's lips on his throat. This time, he used more pressure, making Mojo very well aware of the warmth and moisture of his mouth, and of his teeth. He wasn't biting hard enough to cause Mojo any pain, or to leave a bruise, but it was enough to tickle the nerves below his thick skin. Now it was Mojo's turn to shudder. He let out a sigh, tilting his head to the side, his hand traveling from Arek's shoulder over his neck up to his hair. Soft. He felt Arek wander up his throat, closer to the area where his fringe met the plates of his face.

“I want to play with your dick,” Arek whispered.

“You _are_ drunk!” Finally, Mojo managed to push him away. He took Arek's face between his hands, trying to gain a good look at his eyes.

“I'm not drunk, I'm tipsy.” Arek reached for Mojo's wrists and pushed his hands down. “What do you expect? The way you treat me all the time, I need some liquid courage, or I'd never dare to be here.” He slid back, away from Mojo's face, and sat up. His hands were gliding along Mojo's hip.

“Here, between your legs.” He grinned while he stroke over Mojo's upper legs.

“You know this could be seen as harassment.” That sounded weak in his own ears.

“Yeah. Sure. Because I'd still be here instead on the floor if you didn't want me to be here.” His strokes went back to the hips, caressing the prominent shape of the bones. He chuckled. “Don't take this as a challenge tho. Being kicked out because you don't want me is one thing, but because of your stubbornness another.”

“I...” Mojo's thoughts were spinning in his head. The hands on his hips were gentle, but they seemed to burn through the fabric of his loose, thin sweat pants. Fingers were playing with the waistband. Arek was serious and right with everything he said. But...

“Arek, I'm not doing anything here when you're drunk. And no, I'm not stubborn, but I have my limits.” There had been mistakes that he only made once, and he didn't want to see _that_ kind of look in Arek's lively, honest eyes once he was sober again.

“Told you, I'm not drunk. I know what I'm doing.” He grabbed the waistband of Mojo's pants, but before he pulled it down, Mojo's hand snapped forward, holding his pants in place.

“That's what you think, but there are some things that might-” His mandibles fluttered, his eyes searched for a spot to focus on that wasn't his groin or Arek's face.

“Hey. No need to be nervous.” Arek chuckled and pushed Mojo's hand away. “I know you guys are a bit different from humans. I did my research.” Slowly, he pulled down Mojo's pants. He waited a moment, but Mojo let the chance to stop him pass.

“You did... your research?” Mojo held his breath when his lower region was revealed to the green, curious eyes.

“Sure. Had some time to waste before the party. Guess you could say, you awakened my fascination for turian anatomy.” His finger moved over the soft skin of his sheath.

“That means, you watched porn.”

“Sure. What else?” He looked up, his excited eyes meeting Mojo's indecisive gaze. “Know I asked this before, but – can I lick it?” He stuck out his tongue, and Mojo nodded.

“Just... don't go inside with, well. Anything. Don't like that very much.” Mojo swallowed hard, hating to vocalize a warning like that, but who knew what kind of things Arek had seen.

“No problem.” With that, Arek lowered his head. His wet tongue traced along one side of the slit, his finger along the other, minding a careful distance. Mojo closed his eyes, fighting down a deep sigh. Small and smooth as the human's tongue was, it was so good on his skin. A feeling just past a tickle, more like a tingle that spread from his groin through the rest of his body.

He opened his eyes a bit, catching Arek how he glanced up at him. Mojo saw the curiosity, but also a hint of worry.

Then he understood. Arek wasn't smug or greedy, and just taking what he wanted. His tongue and fingers moved slowly, his free hand had pushed up Mojo's shirt and was resting on his stomach, gently stroking over the rough skin. Mojo was sure that Arek was enjoying every second of what he was doing, but it was about him. Arek wanted to make him feel good.

He leaned forward, reaching for Arek's face.

“I'm sorry.” He stroke over the glowing cheek, and Arek raised his head.

“What for... am I doing anything wrong?”

Mojo shook his head. “Not at all.”

Arek smiled at him, and returned to his newly discovered pleasure. Mojo was leaning back, tilting his head to the side so he could lean against the wall behind him. His eyes were closed, and he let the sensation of the warm, moist touches ripple through his body. For a brief second he thought of the room outside his bed, that any time, one of the drells or Meyrani could walk in. Then he remembered the thick, heavy curtain, which shut out light and noises from both sides. All he heard was Arek's breath, calm and relaxed, and his own, forced to go steady and shallow as he didn't allow himself more. Nobody could see what was happening. He shivered, a low moan escaped his mouth in spite of himself. He felt how he was swelling inside the sheath, and the sides of the slit were slowly parting.

Arek was taking a deep breath, giving a hum of satisfaction.

A moment later, tongue and fingers were eagerly discovering his growing length.

“Glad you like this.” Relief mixed with the teasing tone and Arek's mouth closed around the head of his cock.

“ _Like_ this...” Mojo gasped between two moans. His fingers clawed into his bed sheet. He had pulled his legs up, his feet digging into the mattress. Arek had pulled down Mojo's pants just enough to reach what he was looking for, now the fabric restrained Mojo's movements. But damn, this was good. Arek was pressing his tongue against his cock, sliding it over the slim, slightly bent head while his mouth closed around it. He used his teeth with care, letting them scratch with delicious pressure over the sensitive area. His fingers were moving along the shaft where his mouth couldn't reach further. His other hand was still stroking Mojo's stomach, as though he wanted to assure him that it was all right if he leaned back and enjoyed this.

And that was what he did. For once, he allowed his thoughts to wander away and to lose himself to Arek's care. That this would happen... after the start they had, the dislike, based on their prejudices. No, on his. It had all been his fault, and after they had cleared them up, he had done his best to find more reasons to be a jerk. And Arek – he had never given up trying.

He opened his eyes, watching Arek move with the intense devotion of the moment. One of Mojo's hands loosened its grip from the sheet. His fingers were hurting and close to a cramp when he touched Arek's hair. In the dim light, the beautiful deep red looked almost dark. There was still the chance to push him away, to put an end to this before -

He squirmed, his hand clenching Arek's hair.

Arek's fingers were teasing the head of his cock, with gentle touches following stronger strokes. Lying between Mojo's legs now, he licked and nibbled on the wide base of the full, hard length, right where it ended in what was his scrotum. Arek did a thorough job with his tongue, pushing and playing with what was lying underneath the soft skin, adding pressure and gentle pinches and scratches with his fingers.

“Dammit...” Mojo jerked up, panting, holding Arek's head in place. Through half-closed, blurred eyes he thought he caught a smile when Arek looked up for a second. Muscles were tensing, beginning in his groin, from there in his stomach, back, his whole body. That damned, gifted mouth was back at the tip of his cock, massaging him, demanding him to give what he had to give.

“Arek, no...” He pulled the eager head away, heat shooting under the plates of his face when he heard himself groan with frustration.

“You hopefully don't think I'm letting you stop me now,” Arek grinned, licking over his own lips. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, and leaned forward, as close to Mojo's face as he could from his position.

“I like your taste,” he whispered, his voice husky. “And I want all of it.”

“No... not risking an allergic reaction. Please, don't.” His hand moved around Arek's head and rested on his cheek. His thumb glided over Arek's lips. Moist, slightly swollen. As a reaction to him, or because of the work they had to do, Mojo couldn't tell. No, he wouldn't risk it. He didn't want to carry him to the med bay, because he hurt him, not for a little pleasure.

“Okay.” Arek gave him a smile and a look that made him wonder if his face was glowing in the blue color of his blood. Impossible or not, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Both of Arek's hands were busy stroking him, one thumb pressing and rubbing against the swelling tip.

 _Spirits, Arek. Stop looking at me._ Mojo lowered his eyes, turning his head away, still feeling Arek's gaze watching his face. _Dammit!_

A hoarse grunt escaped him. The very second he feared the muscles of his groin would snap and that he'd burst, the short, painful pressure was overflown with release. He doubled over, panting and gasping for air. Warm thick liquid shot across his stomach and dripped over the hand that was holding him. Somewhere, in the distance of reality, his talons ripped a tear in his bed sheet.

“Gods, that was hot,” a voice trickled through the mist of his mind. Mojo gave a short, breathless laugh.

“Arek...”

“No, seriously,” the voice answered in what sounded like – earnest awe? “That was the hottest noise I ever heard from a man.”

“Well, you know the numbers to make a comparison...” _Fuck._ That one time when he didn't want to give a snark reply. But he had no idea what else to say. He should just shut up. As long as he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't hurt him. Stomping on Arek’s feelings wasn’t the kind of ritual he wanted for ending their intimate moments. Which in itself was a concern he didn’t like at all.

 _Dammit. This is bad..._ If he didn't push him away now...

He lifted his head when Arek chuckled. He was grinning all over his face, not at least hurt or angered.

“One more reason why you should just accept the compliment. I know what I'm talking about.”

Mojo blinked at him, searching if he wasn't missing something in Arek's words or face, while his mandibles were moving into a smile. Then the relaxed feeling had taken hold of his body also won over his mind. He chuckled, and finally, laughed.

“You're an idiot,” he said, his voice low and gentle and brightening Arek's smile even more. Again, Mojo's hand stroke over Arek's face, only for a moment, until he realized that he was gazing at the human's eyes.

“Well...” Mojo withdrew his hand and looked around his bed. “Gimme a sec to find something to clean this mess up...” He hadn't come this hard in a while, which still felt good, but he could do without the now cold result sticking to his stomach. Fortunately, Arek had pushed up his shirt far enough. Wasn't there anything he could use?

“Don't worry your spiky head. I'll take care of that,” Arek said with an air of generosity.

“Hu?” Mojo caught the smirk a second too late.

Giving a chuckle, Arek seized the waistband of the pants and pulled them all the way up over Mojo's stomach.

“HEY! YOU LITTLE....! Dammit, will you stop that?! Spirits, that's disgusting!” But Mojo's aggravation only made Arek shake with laughter while he patted the fabric of the pants, making sure it stuck well to Mojo's stomach.

“That's not funny!”

“Oh yes, it is! And you deserve it for that remark!” Arek shrieked when he was grabbed by his shoulders and thrown on his back.

Mojo held him down, scowling at him. Arek was withstanding the glare, his eyes sparkling, his smile smug and happy.

“Don't think you'll get away with this,” Mojo growled from the depth of his throat, his mandibles pressed to his face.

“Is that a promise?”

“Any last words?” Wait, what was he thinking what he was doing here? Where, by the Spirits, was his plan? If he ever had any since this impertinent human had climbed into his bed? And why was his hand again holding to Arek's hair, stroking it?

“Yes.” The smile vanished from Arek's face. A hint of insecurity broke through his so sure voice. A hesitant, questioning look fell over his eyes when he lifted his hand and his fingertips touched the lines of Mojo's mouth.

“Do turians kiss?”

Mojo gave a snort. The tension of his mandibles eased away as they shifted into a smile.

_Fuck it. It's too late._

He lowered his head. His firm mouth touched soft, human lips, and was greeted with a gasp of surprise. He let the tip of his tongue flicker over Arek's lips.  
Arek didn't let him wait for long. Arms were wrapped around Mojo's neck. Slowly, his tongue found its way into the welcoming mouth. A chuckle welled up in his throat when Arek gave a grunt of surprise. Mojo took his time, making sure he wouldn't scare him as his rough, heavy tongue filled the small mouth. Arek's was so soft and small compared to his... and helpless as it let Mojo lead on. A leg was thrown around his waist, Arek's groin pressed against his, and with it, the hard bulge. A muffled moan wasn't able to leave Arek's throat. Mojo listened how he breathed deeply through his nose. He wanted to give him more air, but when he tried to move away, Arek pulled him only closer.

Arek was trembling beneath him, his arms losing their strength. Mojo broke the kiss. Looking down on him, he took in the sight of the parted lips. His thumb stroke over them.

“Would be a waste if we didn't.”

“Do it again!”

Mojo obliged without hesitation. Arek squirmed under him, demanding a deeper kiss, his hands running over Mojo's face, his throat, the curve of his carapace, without finding a place to hold on to. The intense pressure of his hip against Mojo was growing desperate.

Again, it was Mojo who interrupted, allowing Arek to calm down and gasp for air. The human's face was glowing, his eyes lost in a daze.

“Can you... can you fuck me while we do this?”

“I'd...” _love to._ But something was off. “Arek, are you okay?” By now used to the dim light, he took a closer look at Arek's face, searching it for – there it was!

“I'm the horniest human in the galaxy right now, but otherwise okay. Mojo, fuck me, now! Come on! Or do you need more time?” He reached for Mojo's pants, but Mojo took hold of his hand and shoved it away. Then his fingers tipped against the low ceiling above them. Light flickered up and flowed the small space with a warm glow.

“Arek, what did you take?” Mojo stared at his eyes. The irises had almost completely disappeared. The pupils were too wide, even for the dimness, and were slowly changing to a vacant stare.

“What do you mean? Nothing! Mojo...” Arek tried to pull him into another kiss, but again, Mojo pushed his arms down. He didn't use force, nor was he rough with Arek, but he held his arms firmly down.

“What did you drink?”

“Why is that important now? Just beer, and those cocktails. Gods, they were good...”

“You said you aren't drunk!” A shiver ran down Mojo's spine. This wasn't good, not good at all.

“I'm not! Not from the beer, and the drinks didn't even taste like they had any alcohol in them. Mojo, I'm sober! Don't leave me here like this!” Arek put his arms over his eyes to shield them from the light and Mojo's frown.

“You were hanging out with that drell, Kalron, right? Do you remember the names of the drinks?” A sense of foreboding was creeping through his mind.

“No... don't remember... and Kalron left after Barat showed up. He... was so nice this evening...” His voice was shaking with desperation and pain, as though struggling through his memory was hurting him.

“Weeping Heart. Fuck!” Mojo's memory was working well as he remembered more than one night at one of Omega's bar where those cursed drinks were served. “Who made them? How many did you have?”

“Patrick, I think... three, four? I don't know! Mojo, I don't care! Why can't we just continue where we stopped?”

“Because I care.” With a sigh he let himself fall next to Arek. The beds for turians were wider than those for humans to accommodate the builds of their tall bodies, but even then, his bed wasn't big enough for him and Arek to lie in it – without touching.

“You're not sober, and you aren't aware. I'll explain when this shit is out of your system.”

“Come on, Mojo. I didn't do anything wrong this time, did I? We're both grown men, I'm horny, and I want to fuck you, why can't we just- “

“Because I don't fuck drugged guys. I'd never have you... touching me this way if I'd realized sooner!” _And later, after you wake up from a deep sleep, you'll freak out, how you could ever agree to this. What if you hate me for it? Dammit, why didn't I see it sooner?_ That was easy to answer – because he had been happy that Arek hadn't given up, and that he wanted him. This mess of enmity had turned into a mess far worse.  


“Mojo, I'm horny,” Arek repeated, pressing his body against Mojo's, his hands grabbing Mojo's shirt. “I'm freaking hard... you can't do this to me!”

“I'm sorry.” He shoved his arm under Arek's shoulders, holding him in a hug, feeling Arek squirm. “There no other way, you have to wait until it wears off. You'll calm down after a while.”

Arek was pulling at his shirt, his face snuggling against the firm chest.

“You smell so damn good... this isn't helping,” he complained.

_This isn't easy for me either, trust me on that._

“Do you want to go to your bed? I'll help you getting there.” Mojo didn't like the idea to leave Arek alone. If a certain drell had been willing to drug him with drell-skin venom, that same drell surely wouldn't waste his chance. Bastard. He'd deal with him later, for now, it seemed like he'd be busy with the wiggling problem at hand for a little while longer.

“Can I stay here?” Hope mixed with the meek voice, and Mojo had more than a rough idea what this hope was. Yet, he was relieved. Arek was safer here, where he could keep an eye on him.

“Sure. And forget it!” he ordered and pulled two eager hands from under his shirt. “Arek, I know this isn't easy. But I said no. Do you want to ignore that?” He propped his arm up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand, watching the flushed, honest face gazing up at him.

“No. 'course not.”

“Good.” He pulled his blanket free and covered their bodies. Then he searched for the forgotten data pad. The scene where he stopped watching was patiently waiting for him to continue. He put it into the holder at the wall, and rewound to the beginning. He touched _play_ , and wrapped his arm around Arek.

“You can watch this with me, or try to sleep. Your choice,” he muttered, again blushing under his plating. With a sigh, Arek turned around, now nestling with his back against Mojo's chest.

“I'll get my own back on you for that. Wait, isn't that Blasto? Why's he wearing a wig with greasy long hair? … and there he's wearing an afro?!”

In spite of himself and the anger ranging inside of him, Mojo chuckled. Blasto would never know it, but tonight, his performance saved somebody from doing something stupid under the influence of a nasty drug. Arek staggered through the first quarter of the movie with many more flabbergasted questions, until he finally fell asleep. All this while Mojo was running his fingers through his hair, the only thing that was left to do for him, now that he couldn't push him away anymore.


	24. The Night is Not Over Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mojo is slightly irritated and doesn't hesitate to show it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much exposition! And talking! Well, at least they aren't talking while drinking a beer or coffee :'D
> 
> Sorry again everyone for the delay! I hoped I fixed this chapter well enough for you to not notice where I messed up...

Mojo woke up with a tingling feeling in his arm. The muscles threatened to cramp under the unfamiliar weight. Warm, regular breath was brushing against his chest, and there was the scent of Arek’s hair. His eyes still closed, he nuzzled his face against the soft hair, feeling it tickle where it brushed over the skin under his chin. His free hand stroke over the human’s shoulder. It had been a while since he had woken up with another man next to him. He wrapped his arm around Arek’s waist and pulled him closer. Humans, fascinating, weird creatures. They couldn’t stand the heat, they dealt well with the cold, yet, he felt the warmth of Arek’s body through both their shirts. The space of his bed was cramped with a human and a turian sharing it, but it was worth it. It wasn’t worth, however, to have his arm fall off.

“Hey. Do you hear me?” Mojo shook him gently. Arek gave a low grunt, and snuggled closer to him, his head moving over the strained muscle. Mojo flinched while holding back a chuckle. Why didn’t it surprise him that his action towards Arek resulted in the opposite of what he had intended?

“Sorry, but you’re killing my arm.” He moved his hand around and under Arek’s head, lowering him gently onto the pillow while he pulled his arm free. He clenched his hand a few times, flexing his muscles. The pain was uncomfortable, but already fading.

He watched the sleeping face. With only the dim light of his datapad’s standby-screen, he hardly made out more than the outlines of his features. Mojo found it difficult to believe that things had come this way. Not too long ago, and he all he wanted to do with this guy was strangling him. Now, he wished Arek wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. When he woke up, he’d leave, and maybe never come back after what happened. A part of his mind had its doubt. It had been Arek who had insisted on befriending him, and to sleep with each other. He had tried more than once to convince Mojo to form a friendship that included casual sex. It wasn’t likely that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with Mojo again because he had given in. Mojo’s thumb stroke over Arek’s cheek. From what he thought he was seeing in the dark, Arek looked peaceful in his deep sleep.

There was this bar on Omega. Not the Afterlife, a small place in the Gozu District. The booze was cheap enough to satisfy levo and dextro needs, and who was past needs could order any drink they wanted. Legal or illegal, as long as the credits were paid, Rak Dulan, the owner, found a way to organize it. Dulan was a jolly volus, who enjoyed dancing and singing and swinging hips along with those of his lady customers, but he never touched another drink than distilled water.

There was no waiting time for a Weeping Heart. The basic recipe changed, depending on the origins of the customer, but the main ingredient was always the same. A simple, organic drug, freely sold by younger drells who couldn’t pass the opportunity to earn some easy credits for a few scraps of their skin. The aphrodisiac effect was popular among all social classes and was all good and fun if everyone involved knew what they were doing. If not, however… Its properties didn’t even offer the mercy of the victim forgetting what had happened to them - if the dose was kept moderate. If overdosed, things turned really ugly, from memory loss to brain damage. Mojo had despised the darker side of the drug’s existence since he had heard about it the first time, but he loathed it since he had experienced the grey area himself. When a young human man thought he knew what he was doing and invited Mojo to a few drinks. In the morning, eyes filled with horror and disgust looked up at him, after what he had thought had been a wonderful night. He hadn’t visited the bar since then.

What if Arek - ridiculous! They had gone further before last night, and that time, both of them had been sober. Worrying wouldn’t help him now, he had to wait for Arek to wake up, then he would see what happened. Carefully, trying his best not to wake him up, Mojo slithered himself free from Arek’s embrace. He waited a moment, convincing himself that Arek was still sleeping, and moved towards the ladder. Shoving the curtain aside enough for him to slip through, he climbed out of the bed.

He was the only one awake in the room. The table was clean and empty, the chairs shoved up neatly under it. Meyrani’s curtain was closed, so she was in her bed, maybe asleep, maybe reading or watching a movie. Like he had planned to spend the night before Arek had turned it into a different direction. The flicker of his grin died away when he saw the other two beds. They were empty, their curtains were open. The two drells were awake.

If he put the pieces of Arek’s story together correctly, then the evening had started with the younger drell, Kelar, Koler, something like that. Then, Barat had come into play.

“Pray that you’re not alone when I find you.” The rest of the story came together quickly. Barat, who had been after Arek since the day they had met. Who was convinced that he would win Arek for himself. Arek’s promiscuity only encouraged him, once he would have gotten into his pants, he would find the way to his heart in a snap. Or so Barat had thought. Mojo had quickly gotten tired of his ramblings about the injustice, how cruel his fate was, what a good man with a loving heart had to do to prove himself to someone like Arek. There had been a short time when Mojo had thought that Barat and Arek would make a good pair, both arrogant, self-absorbed and sly assholes. However, he had shoved that thought aside when he noticed had become that Arek was not only not interested, but clearly uncomfortable with Barat’s advances. Mojo’s sense of justice had found itself confronted with a double bind - no mercy for assholes, if assholes made each other’s life hell, it meant less work for him. But also, he had strict ideas about harassing others into situations or actions they don’t want.

Yet, although he had seen it happen often enough in his past, he had refused to believe that Barat would go this far. Well, he’d make sure that this was the first and the last time. But first things first. Nature was calling, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of the sticky feeling between his skin and his clothes.

 

The few crew members he met in the corridor didn’t pay much attention to him. They were busy with their own concerns and schedules, and Mojo alone didn’t offer much potential for entertainment. The bathroom was empty. Mojo decided to take a quick shower. He hoped that the hot water would also clean his mind, but as he was beginning to feel refreshed, his desire for payback was only growing. The voice of reason warned him, that he should wait for Arek to wake up and talk with him, and that the next step was to report Barat. The heat of the shower left him drowsy and comfortable in his body. When he put his shirt back on, he remembered human hands pushing it up and caressing him. He remembered the blushed cheeks, the eager eyes, and the curious tongue.

Between all that, there was no room for reason, but still, revenge didn’t sound as appealing as a moment before. Not that it was forgotten, but there was a soft, handsome human sleeping in his bed who he didn’t want to be alone once he woke up.

He finished rubbing his fringe dry and tossed the towel into the laundry chute. He glanced at the mirror on his way out. The sight of his scars had stopped to bother him many years ago. Joy, triumph, doubt, anger - he had used to feel so much once, but over time, they had become nothing more than a part of himself. A scarface regarded with less respect than a bareface in the turian society. His kind didn’t give a damn about him, and he didn’t give a damn about them. The scars had no meaning for him, not anymore. As for his looks, well…

His head jerked around. The bathroom door opened.

He jumped towards the surprised intruder, grabbing him by his collar.

“You!” He pulled him inside and slammed the door close. “Kelror! You better tell me everything _now_ , before I beat the story out of your brain!” He smashed the young drell against the door. The air was pressed out of the drell’s lungs with a whistling sound, and he groaned when his head was hitting on metal.

“Let go, what are you even talking about?!” he yelped, his fingers digging into Mojo’s arms. “Are you out of your mind?”

Mojo tightened the grip around his throat.

“ _I_ _’m_ out of _my_ mind?!” His voice was lowered to a deep growl. “I’m not running around drugging others, fucking coward! Spit it out! Whose grand idea was it, and where is Barat?”

Kalron opened his mouth, croaking when he tried to reply. He closed his mouth again, and suddenly, his face changed. His eyes narrowed, his lips were pressed together to a thin line. He let go of Mojo’s wrists. “Answer me, you-!” He broke off when a fist hit his kidney. Hard knuckles were rammed under his chin, slamming his jaws together. Kalron stepped firmly on Mojo’s foot, precisely where one of the toes ended and the talon began.

“Ugh…” The attacks weren’t strong, but Kalron knew where he was aiming at. Mojo loosened his grip around Karlon’s throat, and a cold blast against his chest pushed him away. He stumbled backward, shivering, quickly brushing the ice from his body.

“Calm down, this was just a gentle warning. And if you want to avoid a close combat brawl here in the bathroom, you better tell me what the fuck has gotten into you, Mojo.” Kalron stood in a straight pose, his shoulders pulled back. Nothing was left of the carefree jest in his voice. His omni-tool was activated and aiming at Mojo. “Although I’m beginning to have a rough idea, and I don’t like it at all. Oh, and the name’s Kalron, try to remember that.”

Mojo shook off a last shudder from the invasive cold that crept through his shirt. Damn, he had forgotten that Kalron, too, was a soldier. No, if he was honest, he had never bothered to find out what this drell’s skills were, or what of specialist he was. He was surprised that Kalron, the buffoon, the kind of guy who talked too much and thought himself to be funnier than he was, turned out to be a close combat fighter with tech powers. An assassin who knew what he was doing - the drell standing in front of him was confident, serious and free of fear.

There was more to him than met the eye, and Mojo was forced to acknowledge that he had to work on his prejudices. After all, he had also thought that Barat was nothing but a loudmouth, obnoxious but harmless.

“ _Somebody_ served Arek a good measure of drell skin. Somebody with a hurt ego that can’t deal with rejection,” he explained, not leaving Kalron out of sight. A flash of anger darkened the drell’s eyes. Mojo trusted his instincts enough to believe that the reaction was genuine.

“Asshole.” Kalron lowered his arm. “Curse it! If I had known! I _should have_ known!” He began pacing the bathroom. Mojo crossed his arms, waiting for him to speak on.

“You’re sure, aren’t you? Arek wasn’t just drunk?”

“Talked and walked without problems. Going from slightly horny to, well, more horny.” This was still Kalron he was talking to, he didn’t have to know that Arek had been begging Mojo to fuck him when the drug took its full effect. “Eyes widened, one-tracked mind, almost impossible to reason with. Sorry to shatter your hopes, boy, I know enough about that sick cocktail, and how it works.”

“I’d never have thought that he’d go this far…” Kalron massaged his temples. He closed his eyes and opened them again. They were distant, staring at a distance Mojo couldn’t see. The twitched in their sockets as they watched what had been in every detail as it had happened. He hated it when drells did that. Their perfect memory could be useful, but seeing them use it crept him out.

“It’s my fault,” Kalron finally sighed once he came back. “I went back and saw signs. His grin, the hard look in his eyes, the smug triumph in his voice. I didn’t want to see it when he talked to me. I should have warned Arek, instead, I thought…” Again, he was walking up and down in front of Mojo, shaking his head. Irritation and anger were replacing the friendliness his features usually showed.

“Full story, please.” Mojo’s mandibles were fluttering, his nose twitching. He hadn’t bothered with putting on boots, and now the talons of his feet were clicking and tapping on the floor. His eyes followed Kalron, and his fingers were digging into the flesh of his own arms to stop them from shaking the truth out of the drell.

“Yeah, sure. Mojo, Arek is my friend, I’m as angry as you about what Barat did.” He paused, shooting a curious glance at the turian. “What exactly is going on between you, that you are this pissed? Nevermind, I’ll find out later. Barat, yes,” he hurried to change the topic when Mojo glared at him. “Barat, well, has a crush on Arek, as we all know. He can be a charmer when he wants to. That Arek, who, well, likes to sleep around wouldn’t even have a chat with him is driving him crazy. He was getting desperate, although I wasn’t aware how desperate… he came to me while you guys were on your last mission, and asked me to arrange a meeting with Arek, to which he’d show up at some point. I… agreed that I’d leave them alone. Mojo, I swear, I thought he just wanted a chance to talk to him, to present himself from his most charming side. If I had known what he was up to I’d never have played along!” Kalron interrupted his own speech when he had to gasp for air. His hands were cutting and slicing through the air, his voice high while the words were tumbling out of his mouth. Mojo believed him, Kalron was telling the truth. There was, however, one last question that was burning his tongue.

“As his friend, you knew that Arek doesn’t like having that asshole around him,” he began, taking a step towards Kalron. “I don’t understand how you could agree to betray him in the first place. A friend wouldn’t do that, unless… a certain asshole knows more about that friend than he should.” Bull’s eye! Kalron was staring at his feet, his shoulders lost their proud tension. He avoided looking at Mojo.

“I fear there’s no way around it if I want you to believe me… This goes back to my days on Kahje. I didn’t want to stay with the hanar and enlisted to the Alliance. I… I had to lie about something.”

“And that was, what? Come on, boy, we don’t have all night.” He punched his shoulders, pushing Kalron against the wall. “I have better things to do than worming everything out of you!”

“To make it short, I was under a contract that bound me as an assistant to a hanar family, and I wanted to get out of it. So I faked the symptoms of Kepral's Syndrome. I, uhm, organized some money to bribe a doctor who faked my medical reports. They said staying on Kahje would kill me within the next two years. That was the only way to cancel the contract without repercussions.”

“And Barat found out about that?”

“Barat recommended the doctor to me,” Kalron sneered. “I didn’t worry too much when I met him again on this ship, after all, his own record isn’t the cleanest. But… if he decides to report me right now I wouldn’t have the time to dig up some dirt to hold it against him.”

“You’re a charming pair,” Mojo spat out, retreating, a disgusted frown on his face. “You play foul and Arek’s the one suffering. Great friend. Where’s Barat now?”

“I saw him heading towards the fitness area. Shooting practice, I guess. Mojo, is Arek okay?” The irritation melted into honest worry for his friend.

“Yeah. He’s asleep, in _my_ bed, not _his_. I’m leaving.” He turned around, but Kalron grabbed him by his arm.

“Mojo, about what we talked…”

“Not telling a soul. And don’t worry about that asshole. When I’m done with him I’ll have all time in the galaxy to dig up all the dirt about him I want, and prove it!” He shook Kalron off and stormed through the door.

“Mojo! Please, don’t do anything stupid!” Kalron called after him and was ignored.

 

*

 

Mojo waited. The fitness area was located on the same deck as the sleeping quarters, the mess and the lounge. It offered a gym, a room for close combat training, also a small pool and two larger rooms functioning as shooting ranges. Crew and squads were free to visit the facilities in their leisure time whenever they felt like it. Soldiers enlisted and hired for combat situations had priority over the ship’s crew. A fixed schedule didn’t exist, neither did any lists. Two women were responsible for the fitness area, an easy task, as their job mostly meant making sure that the facilities were in a good shape. Only once in a while, they had to mediate when one area was overrun or occupied for too long by the same individuals.

Mojo was impressed that this part of the ship was organized by not being organized and that it worked. Even during his gang years on Omega, the mercs weren’t granted that much self-regulation, and the Armiger Legion was worse. There were jokes that the breathing of the soldiers was synchronized after a schedule, and that they snored like clockwork when asleep. People outside the Legion had no idea how close those jokes were to the truth.

The door to the second shooting range opened. A human couple walked past him, chatting, with their assault rifles resting on their shoulders, their faces flushed with fun and excitement. They didn’t notice the turian leaning against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed, with a frown on his face. Two more, if he wasn’t mistaken, a human, and Barat. He was growing impatient. He hoped that Barat would leave alone, and soon. He didn’t want to run into Amalthea while standing here. She was an early bird who liked to spend an hour or two in the gym after getting out of her bed. He didn’t need much imagination to guess her opinion about his plan.

The door opened. A tall, slender figure came out, taking no notice of Mojo’s presence.

Finally.

Mojo followed Barat and as soon as they left the fitness area, he caught up with him.

“Mojo?”

Barat’s gasp was cut off when Mojo grabbed him by his throat. He quickly looked around, relieved that nobody was around. He dragged the drell with him, into the closest room, the office of the two caretakers of the gym. Like most of the time, it was deserted.

 

Barat was pushed to the floor and was back to his feet before the door closed behind Mojo.

He dodged a punch to his face with a wide step to the side. Mojo lifted his foot and rammed the heel against Barat’s right knee.

“Fuck you!” the drell groaned, staggering as he struggled for his balance.

The full force of Mojo’s second punch landed below Barat’s hips. The drell doubled over and slumped to the ground.

“Fuck _me_? Are you inviting _me_ to a drink now?” His chuckle was cold and hard, and his foot aimed for Barat’s face. The drell rolled over. Mojo missed by an inch, growling when his bare foot smashed against the floor. While he fought down the pain that shot up his leg, Barat pulled himself up with the help of the desk.

“I see. Why are you _complaining_?” Barat sneered. His back was arched, every muscle tensed, ready to retaliate.

“If I’m not mistaken, you reaped what I sowed.” He launched himself at Mojo when the turian stomped towards him with a growl. His full weight slammed against Mojo’s slim waist and brought him to fall. Mojo hissed, more from his anger than from the pain of the impact.

He caught Barat by the wrist before the fist hit his jaw. He twisted it around, smirking with glee at the squeal he heard.

“Do I look that desperate to you? That I’d have to drug a man to get in bed with me?” he snapped, jerking his hips around and throwing Barat off. They were both back on their feet within seconds, glaring at each other.

“With _that_ face? Yes.” Barat pulled a grimace of disgust, raising his eyes at the scarred plates above Mojo’s eyes.

He saw the turian’s attack coming a fragment of a second too late.

Mojo’s arm sliced through the air and his hard fist hit Barat square into the face.

Red blood shot out of Barat’s nose and gushed from his mouth. Mojo growled with savage satisfaction when one or two teeth cracked beneath his knuckles.

With a gargling groan, Barat went down on his knees. His upper lip was split open and already beginning to swell. He wiped his mouth and spat out one of his front teeth.

“Fucking asshole!” he sputtered. Saliva thick with blood trickled over his lip and chin.

“And it was a fucking asshole with _that_ face who didn’t have to beg for sex with Arek, don’t forget that.” Mojo stood straight, shoulders pulled back, looking down at Barat, his mandibles widening as he gloated over the bleeding drell. He bent down, seized Barat by the collar and pulled him up, reading his fist.

“Let me give you something else to remember in lonely nights.”

“Mojo, no!” two voices shouted.

He was grabbed by both his arms and pulled away from Barat, who dropped back to the floor. Mojo turned around. Kalron was standing behind him, taking a respectful step back.

Arek was clinging to his arm, his face grey, dark shadows lying under his eyes.

“Arek!” Barat cried out. “I’m so sorry!” His voice trembling with despair and regret.

“Don’t think he’s buying any of your shit,” Mojo growled, putting a hand on Arek’s shoulder. But Arek shoved it away, looking at Mojo and shaking his head.

“I’ll deal with him myself, Mojo.” He smiled at him and shoved himself between Mojo and Barat. “Alone.”

“But, I…!”

“I’ll talk to you later, okay? Please, go with Kalron. I can handle this on my own.” The smile turned grim, and the green of his eyes disappeared behind a veil of blue biotic energy. Mojo hesitated, studying the tired face. Faint blue sparks flickered around Arek’s body, and he wondered if they were meant to threaten him or Barat. He nodded. Together with Kalron, he left the room.

 


	25. Digging in the Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their own way to deal with the jerk in question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter, from me, for you ♥

Arek remained silent, listening to the sound of footsteps walking away after the door closed behind him. Good, he had worried that Mojo would wait in front of the door, ready to barge in if things were getting louder. In a worst case scenario Arek could imagine, Mojo would have beaten up Kalron when the drell had tried to stop him and storm back inside to finish what he had started. What a night! At least the effect of the drug had lessened, he felt far from horny - his head was throbbing with a growing migraine, and he feared he would fall asleep if he only blinked. He glared at the drell sitting to his feet.

“Thank you. You saved my life,” Barat breathed. He stretched out his hand, but Arek took a step back, crossing his arms.

“Don’t think I did that for you. I didn’t want to get Mojo into trouble for killing you.” His words were cold, lingering heavily in the air. He hated to be like this, angry and unforgiving. Yet, he wouldn’t have been able to pretend otherwise even if he’d wanted to.

“You love _him_ , don’t you?” The dull sadness in Barat’s voice bounced off of him, if anything, they made him angrier.

“No, he’s my friend and I happen to think he’s hot.”What was between him and Mojo was nobody’s business, and he hated the thought of defending himself. Yet, seeing Barat’s face flinch was satisfying.

“But that’s not the point. Barat, how could you?” Disappointment lessened the harshness in his voice. “Just when I thought we could be friends, you did this shit! Did you really want to rape me?” His throat tightened at the word when he thought about the ‘what if’. What if they hadn’t been among so many people, in the lounge? What if he had drunk more, or hard liquor before Barat had shown up?

“Of course not, Arek!” Barat looked up at him, his eyes wide. Red blood was drying on the green skin of his chin and cheeks. On his swollen lips, it was still wet and glistering. His shoulders were dropped, and he seemed to have shrunken in size.

 _Pathetic_ was the word that was coming into Arek’s mind. He wished he had watched Mojo beating him up, although he wouldn’t tell him so. If Mojo didn’t pay attention if he didn’t control his anger, he’d do something stupid sooner or later, it was wiser to not encourage him. Yet, the thought that Mojo snapped and didn’t hesitate to attack Barat for what he had done to him warmed Arek. A smile played around his lips despite his scorn. He would have preferred a different kind of proof for their friendship, but this was fine, too, and Mojo would have a hard time to deny it. He wouldn’t encourage him, but he did have to thank him.

“Arek.” Barat had crossed his legs, still sitting on the floor. His hands were lying in his lap, and he was kneading his fingers. He didn’t look up at Arek. “I’m sorry. What I did was… I don’t know what got into me. I… you’re important to me, you have no idea how important, Arek.” He raised his head, his eyes pleading. “You have all the rights to blame me for what I did, but it’s not my fault that I’ve fallen for you, please don’t blame me for that. And now…” The heavy sigh was weighing heavily on Arek, but he wouldn’t sway. Once he had given Barat a piece of his mind, he’d report him.

“Now I’ve lost everything, even the chance to be your friend. Because I made a stupid mistake that can’t be forgiven. Whatever will happen to me, this will be my biggest punishment.” He swallowed hard, his dark eyes wet. Arek was growing more uncomfortable in his hide. Shifting on his feet, he began to wish he hadn’t sent Mojo away. Mojo’s anger would grow with every word Barat was saying, but his own was dying. Instead, he was pitying the man who was shaking against his tears at Arek’s feet.

“But please, know one thing, Arek! I’d never… do what you accused me of! I can’t even say it! That’s not what I wanted, and it’s not how it works. What I gave you was an aphrodisiac, nothing else. It lowers inner restraints you might have had towards me, hesitation, nervousness, while heightening any good feelings for me. In no way I wanted to alter your free will, or break it! Arek, you wouldn’t be yourself, and I like you for who you are! Why would I destroy that!” His voice was cracking as he explained himself. “I… I thought if there was only the slightest chance you might be interested, I… I don’t know what I thought.” He broke off, sighing again. “But you didn’t want me tonight, you wanted someone else.” He gave a bitter laugh, lowering his eyes and stared at the floor. “How ironic. The proof that what I did only let you act on your desires is what hurts me most in the end. I’m sorry, Arek, I really am, please know that. Even when I can’t ask you to forgive a pathetic man for his pathetic feelings.”

Arek had been listening with increasing unease, at loss what to say. While he and Kalron had been running through the ship he had played the scenario through in his head. He had pictured himself shouting at Barat, then hissing at him with a voice so cold that Admiral Trelan would have frozen on the spot. He wanted to tear him apart with a volley of shockwaves but also wanted to smash his face with his fists. Well, at least Mojo had taken care of the latter.

Now, Arek found himself unable to act on his first instincts. Barat’s speech was buzzing through his head, worsening the pain. Barat wasn’t even denying that he had drugged Arek, but what he said sounded plausible. The substance had given him the final push to act on what he wanted - fucking Mojo. And now, _he_ was feeling bad because his desire sounded so trivial and shallow, compared to all the big feelings Barat was talking about. There was something about the frankness Arek couldn’t help but acknowledge. Could he forgive him - no, that was out of question! Yet, the sight of the usually so proud and confident man sitting there, broken and unhappy as though the last spark that made his life worth living had been taken from him, touched Arek. More than ever he wished he could just finish what Mojo had started, but…

“Forget it,” he heard himself say, wondering if this distant voice was really his. “Barat, I don’t care for you, and after this, bet that I never will, in any way. But we all make mistakes, and in the end, nothing bad happened. Stay away from me, and let’s just forget about it.” That was wrong, dammit, but he couldn’t bring himself to condemn Barat, or to attack him as he should. The worst was that he was pitying him.

“Arek, you…!” Barat staggered and stumbled when he tried to stand up. Arek cringed at the tone of delight. A sobbing sound made him turn around and hasten for the door.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Barat, or to you. Just… don’t do anything like this again, to anyone, ever.” _I have no idea how to explain this to Mojo._ Well, he had to think of a way soon, as it needed a herd of Cerberus Dragoons and Phantoms to keep him away from Mojo’s bed any longer.

 

*

 

Arek found him in his quarter, alone, sitting at the table. Mojo was bowing over a laptop, typing, eyes fixed on the screen. He grabbed the cup of coffee that was steaming on the table when Arek was entering and took a careful sip. He nodded at Arek without looking up and pointed at one of the chairs.

“Give me another second.” Whatever he was seeing on his computer, it seemed to be more important than Arek, but he shoved the coffee towards him. Arek accepted it with a grateful smile, a good, strong coffee was what his head needed. But he put the cup down quickly before he had really picked it up. The scent was alluring, but the cup was too hot for him to touch, and he had no desire to scorch his tongue.

He watched Mojo, the serious face, and how it lit up for a second now and then. Arek tried to find delight in the fact that he had learned to read turian faces so quickly, once he had set his mind to it. He wasn’t a hopeless case after all, that was comforting. But his irritation was growing with every moment that passed. The events of the night were only beginning to clear up in his head, which didn’t help with the headache. Too much had happened. He couldn’t shake of the guilt that flared up without mercy whenever he thought of the vorcha. Although they had done anything they could under the given circumstances, there was still this last whisper of doubt. If they had made different decisions, if they had changed their priorities, lives over the mission, instead of hoping to bring both in line… He shook his head, and flinched when a bright flash blinded his eyes from inside his skull - the pain was growing stronger.

 _Fucking migraine_ _…_ Either the lack of sleep was to blame, the alcohol, or Barat’s drugs. If migraines were a side-effect. He would ask Mojo about it, he seemed to know the stuff surprisingly well, but he also looked so damn absorbed by his task. At the mercy of his thoughts, he relived the last night. Kalron, who betrayed him. Barat, who he had thought wasn’t such a bad sort after all. Barat, who proved to be much more of a bad sort after all. Mojo. That damn hot turian, who refused to fuck him because Arek wasn’t in control of himself, and who gave Barat a good beating because of it. That alone was worth the troubles and a migraine, if he only stopped ignoring him. How could he be so calm and play on his computer after all what happened?

“Hey…” Mojo closed his laptop, and reached for the coffee, staring at it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the galaxy. “Did you kill him?”

“Of course not! And I’m fucking glad we came before you killed him!” Arek was shifting on his seat. He folded his hands to stop his fingers from drumming on the table. By the Gods, Mojo was so calm when he spoke. Arek refused to imagine what would have happened if Kalron and he arrived only a few minutes later to the scene.

“Did you report him? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow? Do you need a witness? I fear we can’t leave out everything of, well, last night when we want the captain to believe the truth, but-”

“Mojo, I’m not going to report him,” Arek interrupted him, forcing himself to remain as calm as Mojo. He had made his decision, and now he had to live with it. “Let’s just forget about it.”

“WHAT?” Mojo jumped up and slammed his hands on the table. His chair was falling to the floor, coffee spilled over the table. “What the fuck have you done there after I left? Enjoyed a nice, amiable chat with the asshole who spiked your drinks?”

“We talked. I told him what I think of him, and to stay away from me. He explained why he did it and apologized.” His knuckles were turning white, his fingernails were digging into his skin. He struggled to keep his own temper under control while avoiding Mojo’s glare. He wasn’t scared, he didn’t fear that Mojo would attack him in his scorn. What bothered him was how well he understood him. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t react much differently. He could only hope that he wasn’t making a mistake, but if he was honest, he didn’t feel good about the way he had resolved the situation with Barat either. Well, what was done was done, now he had to stick to his word.

“Why he did it? That I can tell you! He did it because you wouldn’t fuck him out of your own will, so he tried another way!” Mojo walked through the room, kicking the chair out of his way. Arek cast a glance at Meyrani’s bed. The curtain was open, the bed was empty. Good, at least nobody would hear what was going on between him and Mojo.

“That wouldn’t have worked, Mojo, and you know that.” He put on a friendly smile that turned out rather crooked and unhappy. Any more shouting and his head would explode. He was beginning to feel sick on his stomach. “The drug doesn’t work against my will, it only, well, is some kind of kicker when interested or horny anyway. He only wanted to see if there was any chance at all. A shortcut, something like that.”

“Fuck, are you defending him now? Are you really that naive, Turner?” Mojo punched the door of his locker, leaving a dent. Rubbing his fingers, he returned to the table, sitting down on top of it. “It’s all about the dose. A moderate one, yes, you’re right. But multiply it… also, drell skin isn’t synthetic, the reactions are unpredictable. The same dose can make one guy giddy, and knock out the next. It depends on the species, the individual metabolism…”

Arek listened in silence while Mojo lectured him about biochemistry and the effects of different drugs. He didn’t want to hear any of that. The less he knew about the details, the better. There was no reason why Mojo would lie to him, but right now, he wanted to believe Barat. It was easier. Mojo became quiet after while, looking at Arek, waiting for a reaction. Arek tried to find an answer in the clouded, throbbing mess that was his brain. Why did they have to discuss this? What should he say? He wanted to go to bed and sleep.

“What do you think?” Arek sighed after another moment. “You seem to know about that stuff, you were with me. Was it a small dose? Or did he really try to…” He raised his head and met Mojo’s gaze. He saw the anger, the frustration, but also, worry. It felt good, but also, it was difficult to remember that the anger wasn’t meant for him.

“Well…” Mojo hesitated, turning away from Arek and inspecting the floor. “It’s… hard to tell… you weren’t knocked out, that’s good, but your memory…”

“My memory is fine, and yes, I remember everything that happened. From when I climbed into your bed to the moment when you refused to sleep with me.” For the first time since Kalron had woken him up, he smiled a real smile. Mojo was scratching his throat, his feet were tapping on the floor, and he stared at the door of his locker. Where his rifle was locked up instead of giving his hands something to do.

“I don’t regret it, if that worries you, Mojo.” He stood up and sat down again on the table, by Mojo’s side. “I also know that I wanted you to fuck me, and nothing about that has changed, better believe that. Just… maybe not right now. My head’s killing me.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against Mojo’s arm. He took a deep breath when Mojo didn’t push him away and relaxed a bit.

“That’s good to hear.” Mojo sighed, putting his arm around Arek’s shoulder and letting him rest against his chest. “And, well, he didn’t overdose you, that’s good, too. But if that’s thanks to him or because of your body, biotics and what you’ve drunk before I can’t tell. There’s still a chance that he, well, had hoped for a different result.”

“Mojo, let it go. We’ll never know, might as well give him the benefit of the doubt. Can we drop this now?” Arek yawned with his mouth wide open, wanting nothing more than dozing off with the warm body next to him. “I just want to sleep.”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

“Hoped you’d ask.”

“Well. I think under these circumstances, I’ll make an exception for you. Come.” His arm slid down around Arek’s waist, pulling him gently off the table and leading him back to his bed.

 

X x x

 

Barat was checking his face in the bathroom mirror. His lip was swollen, so was his nose. The blood drying over his green-bluish skin had turned his handsome face into an ugly, unproportional mess. He ignored the pain around his mouth when he opened it and stared at the dark gap. The missing tooth was lying next to the sink. He took a slow, deep breath and flinched. His ribs were hurting, nothing broken, but probably cracked. His fingers pressed on his sides and stomach. The pain was tolerable, the tissue flexible. Good, no inner bleeding, nothing that demanded immediate medical attention. He clenched a hand around the tooth and stormed out of the bathroom.

He walked past his quarter and stepped into the elevator. He waited until it reached its destination and hurried down the corridor, taking a sharp turn. He was surprised to see Kalron waiting around the corner, his eyes glued to the screen of his omni-tool.

“Took you some time, I thought you’d come here right away.” Kalron raised his head, pulling a disgusted face. “You look horrible. I assume washing off the evidence wasn’t an option?”

Barat’s face changed into a grimace when he smiled.

“You’ve wised up, boy. A witness will make this a lot easier.”

“I’m not here to be your witness, Barat. Wait a second.” His fingers moved over his arm. What he saw pleased him, and with a smug grin, he deactivated the omni-tool’s screen.

“So, you really came here to report Mojo for giving you the beating you deserve.”

Barat’s smile vanished, his shoulders tensed and he glared at Kelron in surprise.

“Watch your tone, Kalron. I hope you don’t think I’ll let this savage get away with this!”

Kalron snorted, taking a step towards Barat, crossing his arms.

“With what, beating you, or sleeping with your victim? If you ask me, _you_ got away too easily after doing this to Arek. And instead of thanking your luck on your knees that Arek promised you to forgive and forget, you’re here.”

“How do you know…”

“Mojo. He updated me just a second ago before he went to sleep with the man of your dreams in his arms.” Kalron was laughing with no attempt to hide his glee. Barat’s fists were trembling, but punching the other drell so close to the captain’s office wasn’t a smart idea, and certainly wouldn’t help his case against Mojo.

Mojo, that asshole, who got into his way. If he hadn’t played hard to get with Arek, Arek surely wouldn’t have lusted after that primitive idiot. One or two drinks more and no distraction, and Arek would be sleeping in his arms now. No, he’d make sure that Mojo regretted having intervened with his love life.

“My dear Kalron, you seem to forget our agreement.” He straightened his pose, regaining his proud, controlled composure. He put a hand on Kalron’s shoulder, moving his lips closer to the other drell’s ear. “And now kindly move out of my way. I’d hate to see you throwing your career away because of the fraud you committed in your youth. Mojo is not worth it.” He shoved Kalron out of the way and strutted past him.

“2173. Married to Treen Jeros, on Kahje, on the day she became a legal adult. 2174. Treen Jeros, widowed, pregnant with twins, husband declared dead after the _Denbare_ , a frighter, was raided by pirates.”

Barat froze. Slowly, he turned around. Kalron was standing in the middle of the corridor, looking at the reactivated screen of his omni-tool, a sly smile playing around his mouth.

“2167. Mandara T’Beka deceased. Anaphylactic shock after the _accidental_ consumption of dairy in her dinner, at the tender age of 101. Only half a year after her marriage to a drell named Benet Mereton. Strange, I have a picture here, from their wedding. Do you have a twin, Barat? Who became a widower after the daughter of a wealthy company owner died a suspiciously and early dead?”

“I.. You!” But he saw in Kalron’s eyes that threatening him wouldn’t impress the young drell anymore. “Madara’s death broke my heart, it was an unfortunate accident. Treen Jeros, never heard of her. You have nothing against me, nothing! Gossip!”

“I don’t have anything against you, indeed. I only deliver what my contacts have found. I wasn’t aware how valuable acquaintances are who know how to find this kind of information in the depth of the extranet. And so fast! What is it, Barat? Do you want me to come with you to see the captain? Or aren’t you horribly tired after this exciting night? Or maybe you want to see a doctor?” His eyes were calm, the smile gentle and fake.

Barat sensed that every little twitch of his muscles was registered. Kalron knew how to defend himself, he was a quick, smart fighter. Also, knocking him out and deleting the data from the omni-tool wouldn’t earn him anything - not when others were involved and possessed the same information about him. Or course, that could be a lie, a bluff, but the risk was too high.

“Sleeping over a complicating matter is the act of a wise man if he wants to win the war after a lost battle. Good night.” He refused to look at Kalron. Head held high, he returned to the elevator with firm steps. He wore an expression of smug pride. Whoever saw him on his way to the showers would wonder about his injuries, but wouldn’t question his air of dignity.

 


	26. Paving the Path to New Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with the remains of the night in their own fashion. Moments of recreation are precious, after all, the next mission is waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much exposition! And it's getting worse from now on, mwahaha. Ha. Eh...
> 
> Hey, look, it's Friday, here's a new chapter for you guys! :D

 

 

[It worked! It was really him! Thank you.]

[For you, anytime. Just promise to keep me updated on everything. I still can’t believe that this idiot has fallen for your human biotic. That’s gold!]

[It’s definitely not boring here. I’ll message you when I know more.]

[Talking about knowing more, there’s something that might be of interest for you. Give me a moment to scrap all the data together.]

[Sounds fascinating. Your information has yet to disappoint me. Have to go, talk to you later.]

[Talk to you later, Princess Avilius.]

 

Meyrani giggled, closed her laptop and put it on the floor. After Mojo had pulled her out of her bed and deafened her with a rushed summery of the situation, she had preferred the calm of the science lab’s staffroom. Mojo was difficult to deal with as he was, and she had no patience for an outraged Mojo when she was still half asleep.

She was lying on the couch, stretching her legs and snuggling herself into the comfortable cushions now that the little problem had been solved to everyone’s satisfaction, except Barat’s. Well, that had been easy. A salarien wearing a lab coat stood behind her, handing her a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Sel.” She closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet, flowery scent while the hot cup warmed her fingers.

“You should be insulted. He is smart, but not very polite.” Sellrin sat down at the end of the couch, putting her feet on his lap.

“What do you mean?” she asked with an amused twinkle in her eye. The right corner of Sellrin’s mouth was pulled up slightly, a smirk that showed her that he was in a good mood. She decided that, after having her sleep interrupted so rudely, it was her right to believe that her unexpected presence in the labs was the reason for his delight. If it was because of an improved formula or the discovery of a new metal, she didn’t want to be corrected before morning.

“Calling you a princess. Atrocious. When he was talking to a queen.” He massaged her toes, hitting the right spots without tickling her.

“What is it with you men, promoting me to obsolete royalty?” She laughed, and had a sip of tea. She was a loyal drinker of strong coffee, but as usual, Sellrin knew that what she wanted wasn’t what she needed. The tea was sweet, with a gentle, herbal note that made her think of dreams and soft bed sheets.

“You’re an excellent engineer. Smart, aesthetically pleasing, dedicated. An extraordinary mind, but also with a good heart. Calling you anything beneath queen doesn’t suffice.” He said this with the conviction of a scientist who described the result of a thorough analysis, based on collected data and observation. She loved him for that. The words of a man dizzy with love and lust were as reliable as calculations of a drunk. Sellrin didn’t compliment her, he stated the facts. Hearing this amazing man talk about her like this made up for the forced abstinence any day.

“I love you, too. Forgive me, I’ll find more adequate words after two or three more hours of sleep.”

“I can survive without hearing how brilliant I am until later. I promise,” he laughed, giving her feet an affectionate squeeze that came close to a tickle, but still felt good. Better than she liked, knowing that she didn’t have to expect more intimate touches. She sighed, wishing she was 80 years older instead of being stuck with the libido of youth for a few more years. She sunk deeper into the cushions, ready to doze off any moment.

“Don’t you want to wait until your source contacts you? I’m sure what he has for you is of great value,” Sellrin, the voice of reason, said in a gentle tone, as though he wanted to remind her, but feared he would disturb her rest.

“If it’s more dirt, it can wait until tomorrow. Sel, what do you think?” She opened one eye, smirking at him. “Isn’t it a good time for a nap, for you, too, I mean?”

“Right now, no. It is of outmost importance that one of my team checks on the experiment. Cannot allow failure. Tira’s shift starts in four hours. Will take a nap then.” Again, simply stating the facts, not excusing himself or trying to escape her, only priorities. Sometimes, it was difficult to love him for the way he was. At least he was staying with her a little while longer, humming to himself while he massaged her feet. He cared for her, and she felt loved. If a few hours of sleep were added without an angry teammate kicking her out of her bed, she didn’t need more.

 

X x x

 

For Amalthea, there was nothing that removed weight from her mind as efficiently as weights tearing on her muscles. Long showers worked for moments, and food and chatter only distracted her from reflecting on a mission. They had done their best, given the circumstances. Their best had not been enough to save everyone. The mission was ruled a success, and the captain was satisfied with their work, which also meant with her decisions as the leader. She wasn’t a failure, that felt good. As long as everything went well, responsibility was an enjoyable thing. It was a pleasure to work with Meyrani, and finally, Mojo and Arek had overcome their childish hostility, maybe a bit more than she had expected, if she judged some glances between them correctly. They all worked well as a team. They had done all that could be done and completed the assignment. The two dead vorcha children hadn’t been on their list and therefore, not their responsibility, as long as they didn’t endanger them, as any civilian, by acting carelessly. Yet, she thought that doing what they were supposed to do hadn’t been enough. What else could they have done, what could she have said to deescalate the situation?

These question had kept her awake for several hours after she had gone to bed, and when she woke up, they waited for her.

Before having a shower or breakfast, she headed to the gym. The screen of her visor delivered the stats of her physical stats - weight, muscle density, body fat - while her music play list shut out the noise and chatter around her. She would start with a light cardio training, running off some of her worries, followed by lifting weights to crush the nagging questions. She hadn’t broken her own record in a while, that was something worth to work on today.

She had fallen into a steady running rhythm on one of the treadmills, accompanied by the pounding beat of one of her favorite songs when her omni-tool informed her of an in-coming call.

“Dammit, what is it now.” She stopped the machine, deactivated the headset and took the call. She listened, wiping off the sweat drops that had just began to form on her forehead.

“Yes, captain, of course. I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

X x x

 

Mojo grunted comfortably, still more asleep than awake. He blinked against the darkness, smiling when he remembered why he was feeling the weight of a breathing, living being pressed against his side. He reached for the ceiling above him, setting the light on its lowest, dim level.

“Thought you were tired,” he muttered, tightening his arm around Arek’s shoulder.

“And I thought you turians were covered completely with plates,” Arek countered. He hand shoved his hand under Mojo’s shirt, caressing the rough skin of his stomach. “Meyrani has some on here, that dress showed them pretty well.”

Mojo snorted, and sat up. He pulled his shirt off after turning the lamp on the next, slightly less dim setting. Arek grinned, letting his hand wander over Mojo’s chest. Most of it was free from plates as well, except from small ones that were scattered over his dark skin.

“At least you have this, or I’d have assumed you were half human or something.” Chuckling, he felt along the sturdy collar of the carapace and along the prominent, hard sternum. He continued with one of the arms, his fingers trailing over small plates that covered parts of his shoulders and upper arms.

“You’re thinking of turians from Palaven. It’s a result of evolution, to survive despite the radiation. I’ve grown up on another planet. Dextro-friendly environment, less radiation. My great-grandparents on both sides left Palaven when they were young, and became spacers and colonists. Over the generations, the genes for more and more of the carapace became dormant.” Mojo pointed at several plateless spots on his torso. “It’s not unknown for turian families who grow up in places without strong radiation. I hope that doesn’t bother you,” he ended with a twinkle in his eyes. Arek grinned, shoved the blanket aside and climbed on Mojo’s lap, straddling him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Who’ll believe me I fucked a turian when I’m not covered in bruises?” He bent down to nibble in Mojo’s throat. Mojo lifted his head, exposing the softer skin below his jaw to Arek’s lips and teeth.

“Maybe I should scratch my name on your back, will that help?” Mojo purred. His hands wandered under Arek’s shirt. Contrary to his words, his talons moved tenderly over the human’s back. Arek shuddered when they moved down his spin. Mojo didn’t have to hurt the soft skin, he already felt the result of his touches pressing through Arek’s pants against him. He pushed Arek away from his throat and freed him from his shirt. This was his turn to take a closer look at the human’s chest. No scales, no hard plates. Instead, he traced the defined lines of firm muscles lying under soft skin.

“What are these called again? I’ve seen them in some faces. Didn’t know they spread to bodies.” One of his talons tipped on several orange spots that covered Arek’s shoulders and chest.

“Freckles.” Arek frowned, squirming away from the curious talon. “Common with gingers, unfortunately. Although I’m lucky they spared my handsome face.” He grinned at Mojo’s astonished expression.

“Unfortunately? Don’t humans like them?”

“Do you?”

“Yes. They’re cute.” He stroke over the freckled skin, fascinated that he didn’t feel them although they were so clearly visible. The humans he had been with didn’t have freckles.

“Yeah, because that’s what every man wants to hear.” Arek pulled a face, but was consoled when Mojo pulled him into a kiss. With his tongue filling Arek’s mouth, Mojo noticed the human’s growing excitement. Not only from his heavier breathing and the muffled moan, also from the hard erection that was grinding against him. A promising start after the night that lay behind them.

The moment he shoved his hands in Arek’s pants and over his ass, his omni-tool interrupted them.

“Ignoring the call?” Arek was biting the edges of Mojo’s mouth, the hands stroking over the mandibles.

“Yeah.” He grabbed Arek by his hips and pushed him from his lap back on the mattress. One hand in Arek’s hair, his tongue licking his throat, Mojo pulled down Arek’s pants.

The call didn’t stop.

“Dammit,” Arek sighed. Mojo growled in agreement, and picked up the omni-tool to answer.

“ _Goddess, what’s the hold-up? I was just about to come and drag you out of your bed myself, Mojo! Is Arek with you? I couldn’t reach that idiot either.”_ Amalthea shouted loud enough for her irritation to ring in both their ears. What now? Mojo couldn’t predict how the asari would react to the truth, but it was easy to guess what would happen if she caught him lying. He looked at Arek, who shrugged.

“Yeah, he’s here. What’s up?”

“ _The two of you have five minutes to come to conference room number 4, that’s up!”_ she hissed, but Mojo was sure he caught a hint of curiosity in her voice. Excellent, their angry squad leader making her own conclusions over his answer was an effective mood-killer.

“Fuck this. Uhm…” He hesitated while he watched Arek putting his shirt back on. Frustration wasn’t what he wanted to see on his face this morning, but it offered the encouragement he needed to ask his question.

“If you want, you can come back tonight. I, well… we could continue this. If you want,” he repeated, taking his time to slip into his own shirt.

“I definitely want to, but…”

 _Now it comes. Regret first, excuses secondly._ He should have expected this.

“Syd and I agreed to meet this evening, when his shift ends. You know, from engineering.”

Mojo nodded, pulling his shirt in place and putting the omni-tool on his wrist. Of course. There was this little detail about Arek - his group of lovers.

“Is… this a problem? Because, if it isn’t, I definitely want us to fuck again. Tomorrow night, if you have time. But only if that’s okay for you.”

“Why shouldn’t it. Any other night we’re both free is fine.” No, it wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t change Arek any more than he wanted to be changed by him. The idea to be another number in Arek’s collection tugged at the defiant part of him. Telling him so right away was the sensible thing to do, but then, this would be over, and Arek would accept it. Just like that. At most he’d regret missing some fun, but that wouldn’t last long. The joke was - wasn’t he, Mojo, supposed to think like that? He almost felt like laughing.

“Thank the Gods!” Arek laughed, breathing a light kiss on Mojo’s mouth. “I think it’s gonna be a good thing between us, I feel it here.” He grinned, pointing at his groin, but then he became serious as he spoke on, “But only as long as no other feelings are involved. I don’t want to get anyone hurt. So if you ever-”

“If you ever feel like you want more from me, this is over, got it.” Mojo chuckled, ruffling through his hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m not made for relationships, no danger from my side.” Arek coaxed him into a reluctant kiss, and when they parted, Mojo opened the curtain.

“Trust me, there’s certainly no danger that _I_ want anything more from _you_. Let’s go before Madame Leader joins us here.” At least the last part wasn’t a lie. They climbed out of the bed. They hurried into the bathrooms for long enough to refresh themselves before they hastened to conference room number 4. Just in time, Mojo’s omni-tool was signaling another, angrier call the second Arek pushed the button to open the door.

 

X x x

 

Amalthea snapped at Mojo for ignoring her call for so long, and called Arek an idiot for misplacing his omni-tool, took a deep breath, and calmed down.

Arek kneaded his wrist. Omni-tools were light, but he had become so used to wearing his most of the day, so that now, when he was without it, it was like missing a vital and heavy part of his arm. He remembered having it when Kalron escaped the staged encounter between him and Barat, but after that? He wondered if he had forgotten something else, but unfortunately, he recalled clearly how he talked with Barat in the lounge, and how he had stormed off to see Mojo when his thought circled more and more around sex. Which was the more fortunate development of the night. He didn’t get all he wanted, but more than he expected. For once, Mojo wasn’t switching back to his rude, distant self.

He glanced at the turian, how he walked up to the next chair and sat down. He looked at Arek from the corner of his eye, realized that Arek was observing him, and turned his attention to Amalthea.

Arek grinned.

 _You like me! About time._ After all this struggling and arguing, they had become friends, in a way. There were definitely benefits he was going to enjoy, and that aside, Mojo wasn’t as bad to have around as he had thought. Who would have imagined that the ship’s biggest jerk had a weakness for trashy movies because they made him laugh? So maybe he wasn’t an asset to parties, fine, that didn’t mean he wasn’t interesting.

 _Surprise, surprise, Mojo, you have potential to be my favorite fuck buddy._ He doubted that Mojo would see that as a compliment. Something had been different about the last kiss before they left the bed. Yet, there were Mojo’s words, and if he had ever met a guy who wouldn’t agree to something he didn’t want to do, then it was him. Also, he had said that he didn’t mind that Arek had his lovers, and to assume that he was lying because he did mind, because there was more from Mojo’s side… That probably fell under his streak of vanity and shallowness that Mojo liked to point out about Arek so often. In the end, he was worrying to much. The prospect of a friend with benefits Mojo had to share was likely to poke his pride, and less likely to come from any deeper feelings. So all was good. Mojo didn’t hate him, they liked each other, they wanted to sleep with each other, no jealousy involved, nobody was pressuring him into a monogamous arrangement. There was nothing else he could wish for, well… That Mojo had ridiculed the very idea that he could ever feel anything for someone like Arek… that was exactly what he wanted, yet, it didn’t sit well with him.

“You _are_ awake, Arek, aren’t you?” Amalthea pulled him out of his thoughts. “The next mission is important and not without risks, and I don’t want to repeat myself over and over again.”

“Sure, I’m all here. What is this about? Beating up more Cerberus guys? Eating more of their food? Both? Tell me it’s both!” That earned him a few chuckles from Rani and Thea, although the latter rolled her eyes. Mojo grinned, well, if that wasn’t a big improvement from his usual disapproving snorts.

“Alright. Now listen, everyone. First things first, about the last mission.” She waited a moment, looking from one face to the other. Arek saw the indifference in Meyrani’s expression, Mojo tensed, alerted, and ready to defend himself if he had to. Arek doubted that he himself was able to hide the guilt and worry from his face. What now? The captain had been satisfied when they reported to him, more than Arek was with himself. Amalthea’s stern frown melted away and grew into a smile.

“I was called to the captain earlier this morning. He told me again that we did a good job, and that he was impressed that we learned to put aside our differences so quickly. If we keep it up as a team, he’s glad to have us under his command, he needs good men and women for the war lying ahead. And I agree with him. Thought you should know that.”

Arek, Mojo and Meyrani looked at each other, with pleased surprise. It was good to hear that they were doing a decent job, especially after the rough start. Mojo relaxed, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head, so even he cared, he, who always insisted that the job and the captain’s words didn’t mean anything to him.

“That’s not the only reason why I kept you away from a good breakfast,” she laughed, her irritation with Arek and Mojo forgotten. “We have a new assignment, our biggest yet as a team, as we’ll be mostly on our own for a longer time.”

That sounded interesting. Arek bent forward, his arms lying on his upper legs, his ears all open for the news to come. Amalthea waited another moment for her words to sink in, then she continued,

“Arek caught a name mentioned among the Cerberus members, a Mr. Marley, from Chicago. As vague as the hint seemed, the experts were actually able to pin it down to a Jacob Marley. He’s not the biggest name, actually, he’s quite insignificant.”

“And that makes him important, why?” Mojo asked, his feet twitching impatiently. Amalthea grinned at him, and Arek would have bet that she was stretching what was meant as taking a breath to a pause of half a minute. He was also sure that she enjoyed Mojo fidgeting on his seat.

 _Poor guy, but you brought it to yourself, you know she hates being interrupted._ Well, Mojo wasn’t alone with his curiosity, Arek, too, was dying to know what the minuscule piece of information he had caught by accident had turned out to be.

“Not too long ago, he was a contact between Cerberus and the Blue Suns. He spent a lot of time on Omega, and befriended one of the gang members, a turian. But the new development between Cerberus and the elitist society of turians put a strain on their friendship, and it ended ugly. So ugly, that Marley didn’t feel bound to secrecy anymore. He spilled all he knew about his former friend’s side business, including a few names of important turian supporters.”

“And our tech guys tracked all this gossip down, from one name? Sorry, didn’t say anything, go on.” Mojo raised his hands in defense, and Amalthea’s frown smoothened again.

“That was all we got about Marley, but it’s the names we learned that are important. We dug up a lead that’s not only connected with the shady business going on, but also tells us the likely whereabouts of Murakos.”

“Murakos!” Mojo and Arek shot up in their seats. Arek had more or less given up to get closer to smashing that piece of shit into pieces. Murakos, who murdered and escaped on Omega because of his fault - he couldn’t wait to retrieve his errors.

“Yes. I’ll come to the point now. Marley led us to Murakos, who lead us to several other names, mostly turians, some of them distant relatives as well as partners in crime, so to speak. I’ll forward the list of names and aliases to your omni-tools in a bit. Important is that they all have two things in common - some kind of relationship with Murakos, and the planet they live on. Invictus.”

“In..victus?!”

“Mojo, I’d appreciate it if you stopped interrupting me. I’m sure you and Meyrani know more about Invictus than I do, but let me explain for Arek.” She addressed Arek and continued to explain.

“Invictus is a planet in the Caestus system, and has been colonized by turians for more than 200 standard years. Dextro-based, breathable air and drinkable water for dextro and levo species. It doesn’t have the best reputation. Crime rates are high in smaller colonies, the larger ones are popular among those who have the money to stay out of any register. Those are mostly peaceful cities, controlled by crime, and the leaders aren’t known for their hospitality towards Alliance soldiers and officers.” She gave them a moment so the bulk of information to settle, or for Mojo or Meyrani to correct her, in case she got something wrong.”

“Okay,” she continued when her team remained silent while Mojo’s feet began to tap on the floor.

“Few cities are still loyal to the Hierarchy, and we’ve already established a contact. We’ll start in Laudatas. The mayor is our contact and the only one who knows who we are. He assured us to supply any help and resources we need. His name is Roras Decares. Which is fortunate, as we’ll be on our own. The Hamburg is needed in the Terminus System and cannot wait for us.

This is a big responsibility, and an honor. The captain trusts us, and he and Admiral Hackett himself agree that what we’ve dug up so far is worth investigating. I assured him that we’ll do an excellent job. I expect everyone of us to hold up to that promise, because I know we can do this. There’s a conspiracy going on, more than one murderer is on the loose, and we’re trusted to blow this up - metaphorically. Literally only if there’s no other choice. Are you with me or not?”

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Meyrani nodded, cracking her fingers. “I can’t wait to finally bring all our hunches and leads together. Also, I always wanted to visit Invictus. It is supposed to have quite the scenery. And the most deadly flora and fauna of any turian colony. Sellrin will be delighted if I return with some samples.”

“Of course we’re with you,” Arek snorted. “Like I’d back out when things get interesting.”

“Sure.” Mojo shrugged. “Don’t have anything else to do, anyway.”

“Oh come on, don’t even try to hide your excitement to get one step closer to Murakos.” Arek punched Mojo’s arm, grinning at him. Mojo raised the plates above his eyes, and ignored him. Arek didn’t know what he had expected. Certainly not that Mojo would behave much differently towards him when they were among others, the very idea that he’d openly fool and joke around with him in a similar open manner like Kalron, Rani or Syd would was ridiculous.

Amalthea was delighted by her squad’s reaction. Her eyes glowed and she wore a smug grin when she stood up.

“I’m really looking forward to this.” She opened her omni-tool and began typing. “I’ll transfer all the necessary info to your omni-tools now. If there are any questions, come to me any time. We have 30 hours to prepare ourself and to request the equipment and immune boosters we need. Well, that was the official part, you’re dismissed and free to join me for breakfast.”

Arek only too willingly agreed, feeling a black hole consuming his insides. Rani, too, decided to tag along, longing for a cup of strong coffee.

“Hey, what’s with you? You coming?” Arek put his hand on Mojo’s shoulder. Unlike the others, Mojo remained in his chair. His arms crossed, he was staring at the empty space were Amalthea had sat a moment ago.

“Are you okay?” Arek began to worry when Mojo didn’t show any reaction at first.

“Yeah. I’ll join you guys later.” He stood up, ruffled through Arek’s hair and headed towards the door. “I’ll have a shower first and skim through the data. You should do that, too, when you’ve found your omni-tool. Invictus is a dangerous place.”

Dammit, Arek had almost forgotten about the omni-tool. Well, he might as well ask in the mess first, after he got something to bite. He’d try the lounge after that. The memory of drinking with Barat flashed up in his mind, but he fought it down. After last night, Barat wouldn’t dare to come close to him, and even if he did, Arek wouldn’t be wrapped around his finger again. He said he wanted to forget about it, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He followed Mojo, grinning when he thought about how the turian again managed to escape another threat of socializing with his squad mates.

 


	27. Arrival on Invictus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to start the next part of the adventure! Finally on Invictus, the squad is greeted by hot weather, new acquaintances, and a new area to get familiar with. Laudatas, the city governed by their contact man, is a sight to behold, and everything could be fine so far if somebody didn't decide to act up when the mission is about to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, I wrote most of chapter 31&32 with the help of a caffeine pill. Today, I have a caffeine hangover, I'm tired and cranky and I want all the kudos, comments and pity to feel better! Well, schadenfreude would do, too, and is what I deserve :')  
> (don't do stuff like that to improve your writing/word count, seriously, and when you do it, please make sure it doesn't turn into a habit) .
> 
> Anyway! Yay, a new setting, finally, the Invictus arc begins! I was looking forward to that. World building is difficult but fun, and I hope you'll have a bit of fun with this and the following chapters ♥

'“Wow. It _is_ hot here!” Arek jumped out of the shuttle. His feet landed on dry, yellow grass. He looked at the sun. Sweat drops formed on his forehead and he wiped them off.

“As it was mentioned in the data we were provided. You’d have known if you had read it.” Amalthea emerged from the shuttle. Arek gave a weak grin. She was wearing long, loose pants, made of a light, soft orange fabric and a white tank top. Meyrani joined them. She, too, had chosen a light outfit. Loose pants similar to Thea’s, only white, and a loose, blue shirt with long sleeves. They both had exchanged their usual combat boots for simple shoes.

“I read it, and expected nice, sunny weather, not the second layer of hell!” The blue pants and the black shirt with long sleeves would also have been his choice for a summer evening in his hometown, which was his first mistake. The hot climate he had read about didn’t have much in common with his experience of a hot summer. That he put on his normal boots this morning was his second mistake. Hardly five minutes on Invictus, and his clothes were sticking to his body, and the sun was already beginning to burn his skin. He climbed back into the shuttle and opened his bag.

“What’s up with you? Heatstroke?” he asked while changing into a white t-shirt. Mojo was standing next to the door of the shuttle but hadn’t set a foot outside yet.

“Nah. You brought sunscreen, didn’t you?”

“Sure.” Arek took a small bottle from his back and opened it. He squeezed out a few drops and rubbed them over his face and arms. “There, if the ads keep their promise, this should last for a day. You coming? Gotta say I’m not sure what to make of _your_ outfit.” He grinned, giving Mojo a push towards the door. Mojo was wearing light shoes and tight, thin pants, both of a tan color. The dark red shirt had short sleeves, but also a hoodie that Mojo pulled over his head when he was jumping out of the shuttle.

“Gods, you aren’t trying to get yourself killed by the weather, are you?” Arek shook his head. It was still too warm for his taste, but a little better, and the protective lotion had a cooling effect on his skin while it stopped the sun from frying him alive.

“Don’t worry, we’re used to hot temperatures.” Meyrani wasn’t bothered by the heat at all. She stretched her limbs after the long shuttle ride, taking a deep breath of warm air. “Say, isn’t it beautiful here?”

“You can say that again,” Amalthea agreed.

They had parked their shuttle outside the walls that surrounded the city of Laudatas. Half of the city was surrounded by tall trees and palms, dry and evergreen shrubbery seamed the wall. The soil to their feet was dry, but from where they stood, they saw a jungle with its rich greens in a short walk’s reach. A gentle breeze rustled through the grass and Arek’s hair. If they turned around, they saw the land dying and turning into a desert, with the air shimmering at the horizon.

What the walls gave away of Laudatas was breathtaking. Three high buildings were reaching into the sky, slim and sparkling in the sun like shards made of white porcelain. Green tree tops were lurking over the wall. It was impossible to tell how big the city was. It didn’t compare to the Citadel, but it was larger than the small desert village Arek had expected. The few pictures they had been provided didn’t do it justice.

“Do you think we’ll have time for a hike? I’ve never seen a real jungle before.” Arek shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, and stared longingly at the thick, tall trees. He loved his life in space, the traveling, the ships and their technology. But sometimes, he missed nature around him, and he almost heard the jungle calling for him to come and have an adventure.

“Bad idea,” Mojo sneered. “A wrong step and you’re dead before you’ve time to get lost.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.” Arek pulled a face. His attempts to involve Mojo in a conversation during their flight had only resulted in short replies and grunts and, finally, silence. He understood that Mojo didn’t want to act like they were best friends in front of others, but that he’d fall back into his old habit of ignoring Arek as though he didn’t like him at all was unnerving. Well, if this was how Mojo wanted to be, fine. Arek would make the most of their stay here, and decided to ask their host about the area. If there was time, maybe he could hire a guide.

“Our welcoming committee arrives any minute,” Amalthea read from her omni-tool. “Mayor Decares won’t greet us in person. He sends the head of the security force to help us with the necessary paperwork.” She closed the device and looked at her squad. “Remember, we’re a delegation sent by the Citadel council. We’re here to inform about the reaper threat, and to discuss protective measurements, evacuation plans and possible firepower for the war. Only the Mayor knows who we really are and why we’re here. Stay in your roles everyone. Ready? Let’s go and meet Captain Cantura at the gate.”

Arek and Rani nodded and stepped forward, ready to go. Mojo turned around and climbed back into the shuttle. When he jumped out again, he was holding his rifle.

“Mojo, I said no weapons! We’re here as diplomats, not soldiers,” Amalthea snapped, and Arek grinned.

“Didn’t you mean, no weapons for Sentar Verrus, my dear Lanira T’Less?” He gave her a nudge as he reminded her of their fake identities. It wasn’t just a joke, he hoped he wouldn’t forget their aliases and call the others by their names by accident.

“I’m not coming with you.”

“What did you just say?!” Amalthea’s relaxed mood switched to one of her worse tempers within a second. “You’re not telling me that you refuse to listen to my orders? You’ll come with us, as Sentar Verrus, and do your fucking job, got it, Mojo?” She walked up to him and drilled her finger into his chest. He was a few inches taller than her, and she looked up at him as she spoke. Arek was chewing on his lip. This wasn’t good. This Cantura guy could show up any minute, and their cover would have been short-lived if they were caught arguing like this. Amalthea was stubborn and very able to fight for what she wanted, with violence, if she had to. He had also got used to Mojo’s stance. No flinching, no twitching, the arms crossed, he withstood Amalthea’s glare.

“No, I won’t. You can go alone. I’ll keep hidden from their eyes, it’s like I’m not here.” Mojo turned away, walked back to the shuttle and closed its door. “You can tell Crusher we did it because of my scars. It’s unlikely that the council would send a turian that separated himself from his clan in disgrace. That’s all I have to say.”

“Fuck you, Mojo, you’ll come with us, and if I have to knock you out and carry you!”

“Your new buddies are coming.” He looked over her shoulder and pointed at the gate. Amalthea, and Arek and Meyrani as well, jerked around. Mojo was right, the gates were opening, and a vehicle was leaving in a cloud of dust.

“See you later,” Mojo muttered and disappeared behind the shuttle before Amalthea had a chance to act on her words.

“Fuck this asshole! Arek! Why didn’t you do something?” She gave the surprise Arek a push.

“Why me? What did you expect _me_ to do?!”

“To use your newfound influence on him! Are you best buddies or not?” She pushed him again. Meyrani stepped between them.

“Shut up, you two. They’re coming. We have one more minute to come up with a story why we’re only three instead of the expected four.”

Amalthea growled at both of them, shooting a last glare towards the shuttle. Arek exhaled with relief. A fight with Amalthea was the last thing he was looking for. They had spared a few times, with and without biotics, and each time had ended with him being stitched in the med bay, or with a joint bent back into its rightful place. Fortunately, Meyrani’s warning had reached her. Amalthea took a deep breath, and shook of the angry frown. Her pose relaxed, and she even mumbled a sorry into Arek’s direction. So there were only the three of them. They’d be brought inside the city and to the mayor in a few minutes. Arek and Meyrani had proven before that they were able to put up an act. That was the deck they were dealt, and as long as Mojo, whatever had ridden him, stayed out of trouble, the situation didn’t look too bleak.

The cab came to a hold in front of them. It was white, painted with a blue and golden pattern and turian letters that Arek translated as “LSG - Laudatas Security Guards”. The door opened, and a turian woman disembarked.

Arek shuddered for a moment, finding it difficult to keep up his smile.

She was tall and slender like a tree. She was wearing a uniform with short sleeves, and of a dark blue color with golden insignia stitched on her shoulders and chest. She stood straight, her hands folded behind her back. Her green eyes inspecting her three guests with a stern glare. A belt holding an assault rifle and a pistol was swung around her waist. Arek wasn’t disturbed by the weapon itself, but by the fact that it looked used. She reminded him of Admiral Trelan, one of the last persons he wanted to think of. However, her white face markings were different from the admiral. That was something. But he had no doubt that she wouldn’t hesitate to use her gun if she had to.

“Let me see,” she finally said. Her voice was clear and well modulated, a voice that took pride of the authority she was used to. “Miss Lanira T’less, Miss Eredin Renus, and Mister Ethan Wolf.” She nodded at Amalthea, Meyrani, and Arek in the order she spoke. “I’m Captain Lei Cantura, head of the LSG. I’m responsible for Mayor Decares’ security, and for yours while you’re staying with us. He’ll welcome you in his office shortly. He had some important matters to attend to.”

“Of course, Captain Cantura. I’m speaking for all of us when I say that we’re pleased to meet you.” Amalthea offered her hand. The Captain took it and gave it a short, firm shake without taking her eyes from Amalthea’s face.

 _A geth would offer a warmer welcome,_ Arek thought, but he followed Meyrani’s example and bowed with a smile. The captain stroke him as a hard, strict woman who lived and breathed rules and responsibility, but at least she lacked the cold, merciless aura of Admiral Trelan. Still, Arek doubted he’d warm up to her. To think that she was responsible for them and that he’d see a lot more of her during their stay didn’t cheer him up. He’d still ask her for a tour through the jungle, although he had a hunch what her answer would be.

After the stiff welcome, the trio climbed into the cab with her. She closed the door and started the engine. Arek looked back at the shuttle. No sign of Mojo. What the hell was he up to?

*

“Once the documents are cleared and officially approved of by the mayor you can return to your shuttle and bring it in. Please understand that these checks are necessary to reassure everyone’s security.” Captain Cantura was walking ahead with wide strides. They had parked in front of one of the high buildings. The captains’s pace didn’t allow them to take in their surroundings. Arek saw several turians walking the street, not too many to call it a crowd. They were dressed in loose skirts, shirts, long and short pants, or long robes. He wanted to see more of the city, but he had to keep up with the captain. Hardly three minutes had passed and they were inside one of the towers.

It was warm inside, but the walls shielded them from the sun and an air conditioning system kept the air clean and fresh, giving the illusion of a cooler temperature. Desert city or not, Arek decided that he never wanted to go outside again. Now a cold drink and a shower, and he would have been contented with the world for a while. He walked behind the rest of his squad and the captain.

The building was windowless and fairly empty. Only two turians were walking through the wide hall with the high ceiling. Floor, walls and ceiling were built of the same white material that reminded him of marble. Only that he wasn’t sure if he was walking on stone, metal or something completely different. Every tile was polished and reflected the soft light that gently illuminated the hall and corridors. The sound of their steps was adsorbed and all that was to hear from them was a shuffling noise of their shoes and the captain’s voice as she explained them the next step of the bureaucracy they had to expect. Arek’s eyes were grateful that they could take a rest from the brightness outside, and the dimness and overall calmness allowed his senses to relax.

Captain Cantura walked into a room without knocking. Two turian males interrupted their chat and greeted her and the group following her with a nod. They looked at Arek and Amalthea without hiding their curiosity, however, they showed no signs of hostility.

“The delegation from the Citadel arrived, Kerrus.” She handed him a datapad. Kerrus took it and browsed through the pages without much interest.

“T’Less, Renus and Wolf, yes, I remember. But weren’t you supposed to be four? One asari, one human, two turians?” His talon tipped onto the screen where he noticed a discrepancy between the documents he had received earlier. “Sentar Verrus, speaking on the behalf of Citadel’s C-Sec.”

“Officer Verrus was called to unexpected duty from his superior. A new development in a case he was working on,” Meyrani answered without a hint of hesitation. “I’m afraid that’s all we know. Classified information. He stayed on the cruiser before our shuttle was dropped in the Caetus System.”

“This shouldn’t cause any problems, Kerrus. Proceed, please, they have an appointment with Mayor Decares.” Cantura’s voice gave away her words as the order they were.

“Sure, no problem. If they had brought an additional visitor it would have been more complicated. One or two more hours of paperwork, but one less? Rez?” Unruffled by her demeanor, Kerrus handed the data pad to his co-worker, who had followed the exchange in silent so far. With the data pad in his hand, he returned to his desk and pressed a few keys on his computer.

“Done already.” He handed the pad back to Captain Cantura. Then, he offered his hand to Amalthea, Arek and Meyrani in turns. “Welcome to Laudatas, Sir, and Madames. I’m Rezes Pharis. I hope you’ll enjoy your time here. It’s not a big, and can’t compare to the Citadel. But I’m sure you’ll soon appreciate the unique charm of the city and the people living here. If there are any concerns with your shuttle, bring it to us any time.”

Finally, something that felt like a friendly welcome. Arek smiled back at him. The second turian fully introduced himself as Sadores Kerrus, shook their hands and welcomed them as well. When Captain Cantura was the exception, and most of the citizens were more like Kerrus and Pharis, maybe he would have a good time after all. The prospect that everyone here was as stiff and rigid as her had been far from delightful.

“Now that this is cleared, it’s time to see the mayor.” Captain Cantura ushered them out of the office before a real conversation started. “Once that’s done, you can bring the shuttle inside.”

 _Somebody remind me to invite Thea to a few drinks when we_ _’re back on the Hamburg._ He should appreciate the leader of their squad more frequently. The thought to work under someone like Cantura sent an unpleasant chill down his spine, and he was grateful for Amalthea’s friendship, and her temper outbursts when she was forced to put them in line. Even if they weren't friends he rather followed her than someone who turned every little task into a drill.

“Does the mayor have his office in this building?” Amalthea asked while they walked the corridor back into the direction where they had come from. She had caught up with the captain and walked by her side, while the others kept a careful distance behind her.

“Mayor Decares insisted on staying in his old office in the LSG Headquarter. Although I advised him to take advantage of the security the Administration Tower offers.”

Arek grinned behind her back. If she had turned out to be a synthetic Arek wouldn’t have been surprised, but the subtle hint of annoyance in her voice gave her away as just another mortal. Also, he instantly like the mayor. A guy who could provoke an emotion from this woman had to be a great guy.

“Right, I remember. He was the head of Laudatas’ security forces before he was elected,” Amalthea recalled the information they had read about him. Very much to Arek’s relief, that detail had already escaped his memory. Remembering all the names that he couldn’t connect with faces and voices yet was already a pain.

“Correct. And he appointed me as his successor,” the captain stated, as though the choice had been the only obvious option. They had reached the door when she received a message.

“If you don’t have any objections, we’ll walk. It’s a suggestion from the mayor,” she said after reading and closed her omni-tool.

“Now, if it’s a suggestion from the mayor, how could we object,” Meyrani imitated the captain’s austere tone, walked past her and opened the door. Before the sunlight could blind him, Arek noticed the twinkle in her eyes. He bit down a chuckle and followed her outside. He glanced at Captain Cantura, catching the hint of a frown on her face. Leave it to Meyrani to figure out a way to tease the captain. He just hoped it wouldn’t have any consequences if any of them managed to piss her off on their first day.

X x x

The walk from the tower to the LSG Headquarter turned out more pleasant than Arek had expected. Captain Cantura led the way with moderate speed. Using his legs felt good after being squeezed into the shuttle for hours, and while he was still uncomfortable with the heat, it didn’t hit him like a hammer over the head as it had felt at first. But the best part was that they finally had a chance to get a real first impression of the city.

There were only three high buildings like the tower they had just left. Like splinters, they were sticking out between the usually flat shops and houses they were walking past. Arek recognized the general purpose containers from colonies all over the galaxy. Only that most of these containers here benefited from new layers of paint. Walls had been replaced with glass to create inviting shopfronts. Other buildings were made of white, sandy stone and metal. White and sand were the dominating colors, letting the place appear larger than it was. Pharis had hit the nail on the head - Arek, who had become used to the dark, cold metal on spaceships, most space stations and colonies, at once fell for the bright, friendly charm that Laudatas offered.

Trees with large leaves offered shade for Turians who wished to take a break from their work. They were sitting in the shadows, dozing off, or having a chat over drinks or snacks with friends. Arek envied them, they seemed so at peace with the world and the heat. He’d give an arm for a cold drink under one of these trees, and some fun company.

He wondered what Mojo was up to. Arek couldn’t imagine that Mojo wouldn’t have liked this place. However, now that he was thinking of it, it was difficult to tell what Mojo would like and what not. He should have been excited about the new mission that brought him a step closer to Murakos, and who knew how else of those who were involved with that asshole. They were so close to bust some names and to deal a good and heavy blow at Cerberus and their conspiracy plans. Yet, Mojo had been weird since the new assignment had been announced. Well, Arek could only trust him that he knew what he was doing. His omni-tool notified him of a message. He needed a second to navigate into the message folder. The time had been too short to get used to the new standard omni-tool, and he still cursed himself for losing his customized one. New or not, he opened Mojo’s message.

 _Speaking of the devil_. He grimaced as he couldn’t decide if he should grin or frown.

[I know what I’m doing. Don’t act suspicious, don’t stir up trouble. Don’t trust anybody.]

 _Pure poetry. A_ _‘don’t worry, be careful’_ _would have done, too._ He looked at the others. Amalthea still tried to involve Captain Cantura in a conversation, ignoring the hint that the crisp, short replies were meant to give her. Meyrani observed their surroundings. The heat didn’t bother her the slightest, and if Arek didn’t know her better, he would have taken her for at tourist on a sightseeing tour. But as it was Rani, she was probably scanning for strategical points of interests, escape routes, spots to set up defenses. Neither of them seemed to have received a message.

 _Well, a rude note of advice from Mojo, just for me, isn't that flattering?_ His sarcasm fell short as he indeed felt flattered. He wished he had a clue where Mojo was now, and where he could meet him. He was dying to know what was up with him. Something strange was going on, and he would be more at ease if he knew what it was.

“Oh!” He forgot about his growing grudge with Mojo when they had reached the center of the city. The path ended and a wide place unfolded in front of them. In the middle of what would otherwise have looked like a marketplace, clean water was glistering in a large, square pool. Trees were planted around it, casting shade over the edge. Turians of all sizes and ages were letting their legs dangle in the water. Chattering voices and laughter were brought to them by a gentle, warm breeze.

“The heart of Laudatas,” Captain Cantura explained. “It’s just past noon. Not every one of us can provide their best capabilities during the peak of the heat. Those without a private pool prefer to spend their time here, or elsewhere in the shadows, until afternoon. Offices and businesses offer flexible shifts, and most work is done in the evening hours, or at night.”

‘Not every one of us’, Arek assumed that was her way to tell them that most citizens were surprisingly normal, while it needed a volcanic eruption, a storm surge, and an earthquake at once to derail her from her duties.

 _I bet you_ _’re the heart of every party._ But Arek didn’t want to spoil the day by paying too much attention to their guide. A pool, in the middle of the city. He’d find a way to make use of that before the day was over, and nothing would stop him from that. His skin was itching and his throat was becoming even drier from only looking at the sparkling surface of the blue water.

Captain Cantura didn’t think of offering them a break to refresh themselves. She was leading them towards the largest building of those that surrounded the place. It was made of stone and metal, and as many other houses, without windows. It was one of the few buildings with more than one floor, but it was as square and flat as the others.

They followed her inside and were met by the same dimness and moderate temperature as they already knew it from the Administration Tower. The foyer was almost empty. A bored looking turian woman was sitting behind a window at her desk. She lifted her head, nodded at the captain, and returned to whatever she was looking at on her computer.

Potted plants gave the room a more inviting atmosphere, and the walls were decorated with pictures of important turians who Arek had no idea who they were. Captain Cantura pointed at a row of seats that stood next to the only elevator.

“You can wait here. Mayor Decares will be with you soon.”

 


	28. Mayor Decares Takes Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the mayor arrives, and he has a few things to share with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More new names, help!

Captain Cantura excused herself and disappeared behind one of the doors. With her presence gone, a weight was lifted from Arek, and he sighed. Meyrani and Amalthea seemed to feel similar about the captain. Amalthea sighed as well, and the tension vanished from her shoulders. She slumped down in her chair.

“What a hag. Thought she’d never leave our sides,” Meyrani muttered and stretched her arms and legs. Amalthea shushed her, but like Arek, she couldn’t hide a grin.

“Wonder how long we’ll have to wait. Geez, I’d kill for a glass of water.” Arek pinched his shirt from his body. He was covered in sweat, his clothes were sticking to his skin, and he feared that his feet were boiled in his boots. A drink, a shower, a nap, that sounded just about right.

 _Get it together, Turner. The mission has just begun and so far we_ _’ve done nothing but paperwork._ He yawned. The warm air was making him drowsy, and his eyes hurt from the sun. Walking around wasn’t a problem, and talking with the two turians in the office building had been a pleasure, but sitting in the warm, dim foyer with nothing to do but waiting for the mayor was neither fun nor interesting. His mind began to wander, and he had to struggle to keep his eyes open. He considered talking with Rani and Thea, but he had no idea about what. As long as they didn’t know if they were observed it wasn’t safe to talk about the mission. Acting as their fake personalities while being under observation was risky, too, in case the room was bugged. The more they lied about themselves, the more likely it was that they tripped over their own stories the longer they stayed.

Footsteps echoed through the hall. Arek lifted his head, hoping that the wait was coming to an end. A turian woman had entered. She was wearing a similar uniform like Captain Cantura. She nodded in their direction, and wandered off, down the corridor. Arek groaned with disappointment, and lowered his gaze again. Like in the other building, the floor was white and polished. No doubt, this was a beautiful city, one of the most beautiful cities he had seen during his travels. The turians had used their two or three hundred years on this planet and created an amazing place to live in. A small paradise, if one was partial to hot weather. He began to miss Noveria, snowstorm or not.

He didn’t remember anything in his notes about Laudatas’ business, nothing like trade or manufacturing. He knew it was built on a water vein, which explained the pool and the plants, or how living here was possible at all. Maybe water was a trade good, but he hadn’t read anything about that.

Mining was listed as one of Invictus’ main sources of income, but this city didn’t look like a mining town. It was too pretty, too white, too clean. Yet, everything spoke of wealth - the beautiful buildings, the relaxed atmosphere, citizens lazing about in the shade during the day. It was easy to forget that this planet was known for its crime rate and that most of the colonies were a popular sanctuary for outlaws.

 _Well, it pays to be on good terms with the Hierarchy, obviously. Bet they have their share of troubles with other colonies._ That would explain the walls around the city, and the need for security forces with a tough captain. Maybe Arek projected too much of his hate for Trelan on Captain Cantura. She was doing her job, and making sure she did a damn good job, it wasn’t fair to judge her because of the face she showed at work when he knew nothing about her but her name and rank. So far, they were outsiders, intruders. Peaceful places valued nothing more but the peace, and as much as he didn’t trust her right away, she probably didn’t give her trust away easily as well. He should get used to the idea that not every turian warmed up to him right away.

“Hello, everyone. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long for me?” The hoarse, friendly voice belonged to a turian wearing a pair of white, loose pants and a grey, thin shirt. He was smiling, and there was a jolly twinkle in his brown eyes. Arek took to him at once.

“No, we just arrived a few minutes ago,” Amalthea answered for them. “Mayor Decares?”

“That would be me, yes. Come, let’s have a chat in my office. It’s small but more comfortable than the lobby, that’s for sure.” He waited for them to stand up, shook their hands and gave them pats on their shoulders. They followed them into the elevator.

“I hope the weather doesn’t bother you too much. You aren’t used to the heat, are you?” He gave Arek a sympathetic smile.

“No, but no worries, I’ll be fine.” Arek smiled back at him. Finally, somebody showed a bit of pity.

“Good. If you need something, just ask ahead. We rarely have visitors from outside, and sometimes we forget that not everyone is born on a desert planet.” After spending the first hour in Laudatas with Captain Cantura, a mayor engaging them in informal chatter was the last thing Arek had expected. The elevator stopped and the door opened.

“Are the nights as hot? Or does it get cooler?” Arek asked, walking next to the mayor.

“It gets cooler, yes. Not so much in summer, though. You’re lucky to visit during the change of season. Spring is coming to an end. Soon, the nights will be too short to cool the air down, but it will be less humid. Today is one of the more arid days. That might change tomorrow.” They arrived at a door at the end of a short corridor. Mayor Decares entered a code and waved them inside.

He hadn’t promised too much - his small office was more comfortable than the lobby. A desk, walls lined with shelves full of books and data containers, four chairs, a couch, and the room was almost cramped. They walked on a floor made of a cold, white stone. The walls were painted in a soft, yellow color. To Arek’s surprise, there was a window after all, right behind the desk, but blinds shut out most of the sun. Enough light was allowed to come inside though that artificial light sources were not needed.

Decares slipped out of his shoes, stretching and flexing his feet, the talons clicked on the floor as he walked behind his desk.

“Nothing like walking barefooted on cool tiles on a day like this. Please, make yourself comfortable! For now, this is as much your home as it’s mine. Off with the shoes, sit down, don’t worry about the protocol, we’re among friends here, right?” He waved them over and pointed at the chairs and the couch. Arek was tempted to take him by the word and throw himself on the sofa, it looked comfortable enough for a good nap. Amalthea thanked Decares but assured him that they were all right. Meyrani worried less about formalities. Off went her shoes, much to Arek’s joy, as he felt encouraged to follow suit. The floor was nice and cold against his bare feet, although he worried about the damp footprints he left on the polished stone.

“I’m adjusting the air conditioning. I fear Lei’s going to rip my head off as the heat will hit you only harder when you leave, but you sure look like you need a break.” Decares’ fingers were flying over the keyboard of his computer. “Be so good and remind me later to turn it down a bit to get you reused to the warmth, yes?”

In an instant, the temperature dropped to a more agreeable level. Arek was aware that the mayor was right, and that, if he wanted to pull his weight on this mission, he better got used to the climate soon. But it was nice not to feel like he was locked up in an oven, if only for a short while.

“So, you’re here to follow some clues to catch a murderer who’s tied to a secret organization founded by Cerberus and turian elitist. I have the list of the names your captain sent me, but I can’t promise that I’ll be of much help.” He opened a file and shoved the screen around so that they, too, had a good view on it.

“I’m ashamed to say that most cities and towns have been corrupted by crime for centuries. However, Laudatas is not one of them. A major part of my job is to make sure it stays this way. If anything, I can tell you that the harder somebody tries to disappear from the radar, the more certainly somebody in the capital has heard of them.” He changed from the file to a map, and zoomed in.

Shastinasio, the capital of Invictus. It’s not quite Omega yet, from what I’ve heard, but it’s bad enough as it is. I’m afraid that’s the only piece of information I can give you.” He sighed with regret so that Arek felt compelled to answer with an encouraging smile.

“Mayor Decares, we appreciate anything you can do for us, no matter how little. However, I hoped, that-” Amalthea began, but Decares raised his hand to stop her mid-sentence.

“Please, Miss T’Koss, drop the title game. It’s Roras, simply Roras. I am, if I may say so, doing an excellent job as Laudatas’ mayor, but formality isn’t one of my strong points. As Lei will let you know soon enough, I’m sure.” He chuckled and turned the screen back into its former position. “Speaking of her, did she offer you something to drink?”

“Well, no, Sir, I mean, Roras. But we’re fine. Isn’t that right, Arek?” She gave Arek a nudge when he sneered at the mayor’s question. Roras shook his head and activated the intercom.

“Larian? Please, do me a favor. I need five glasses, and two bottles of water, chilled, please. Tell Lei I need to talk to her, too.”

“We don’t want to cause trouble for Captain Cantura over a cup of water,” Amalthea insisted once the mayor had closed the comm channel. “She’s very dedicated to her job, and seems to value efficiency.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Roras grinned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands behind his head. “Trust me, I know her qualities. She’s an amazing, loyal, hard working woman, and I have nothing but admiration and respect for her. However, you guys are my guests, and I want you to have a good time. If that means I have to remind her that we aren’t machines it’s a small price. Don’t worry, it takes more to get on her bad side, like, breaking the law.” He chattered away, praising his captain and how much she had done for the city, and was willing to do. Times were quiet lately, but if that changed, she’d be the first to draw her gun and protect the city at all cost, even if it meant giving her life.

The door opened, interrupting his song of praise, and Captain Cantura was entering the office. If Arek recognized anything, then it was a frown in a turian face. Which was most likely due to the tray she was carrying and put down on Roras’ desk. Five glasses and two bottles were standing on it, as ordered. The liquid was so cold that the glass was fogged from outside. Small drops of water were running down the surface and dripping on the tray.

“Mayor Decares, serving drinks is not part of my duties,” she scolded, eying him with disapproval when he stood up and filled the glasses by himself.

“I know, Captain, I know. I’m sorry, I should have expressed clearer to Larian that he was meant to get the drinks, _and_ also to send you here. Please, have a seat and a drink with us.” He shoved his office chair around the desk. With a glass in his hand, he sat down on the edge of the desk, cheering at them and the captain, who stiffly sipped her water.

“I’d have loved to offer you wine and beer, top brands imported for the levo needs of my friends. But I’m afraid, alcohol at this time of the day when you’re not used to our climate is a bad idea.”

“Well, every day is followed by a night.” Arek smirked, and emptied his glass. The water was cold to the point that it was almost freezing, and it was the most delicious drink he had tasted in ages. Roras refilled the glass before Arek could put it down.

“Wise word, my friend, wise words. Arek Turner, correct?”

Amalthea coughed, while Meyrani raised the plates above her eyes.

“What? Turner? But… Roras!” To see Captain Cantura flabbergasted was worth the slip-up, also, Arek was relieved that he didn’t mix up their real and fake identities. What stopped Arek from worrying was that the mayor didn’t seem bothered at all. His good mood was unimpressed when he turned at Amalthea with a bow.

“Forgive me, but please know that I’d trust Lei with my life anytime. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, and I assure you she’ll be an excellent ally. Lei, I’m sorry I’ve lied to you until now. That’s the reason why I called for you, to make you a part of our little undercover mission, not to make you serve us drinks.” He shrugged in defeat and smiled at all of them. There was something mischievous about him that made it easy for Arek to forgive Roras. Amalthea relaxed, and Meyrani didn’t seem impressed by the whole scene at all. So Mayor Roras Decares had made a similar impression on them as on Arek.

“I trust you that your choices benefit Laudatas, Roras. It’s not my place to demand insight in all your decisions.”

 _But if you could, you_ _’d demand him to show you whatever he’s working on every day, awaiting your approval, right?_ Right next to Roras, she was even more strict and rigid, and that she broke the protocol by using the mayor’s first name while on duty didn’t lessen the negative image Arek had of her. But Roras trusted her, that was good enough for him to trust her as well. That didn’t mean he had to like her.

“Lei, these are Amalthea T’Koss, Meyrani Avilius and Arek Turner. They are part of the Alliance and investigate a murder and conspiracy case. Their leads brought them to Invictus, and the only people they can trust are you and me. I’ll give you the details later. If you agree, Amalthea. If it’s okay I call you by the first name as well.” Again, he bowed at Amalthea with great respect. She nodded, confirming both questions,and gave Captain Cantura a polite smile.

“Good to have you on board, Captain.”

“I’ll do my best to help,” Cantura replied stiffly and turned towards the mayor. “Be assured that I won’t disappoint you.”

“Lei, please, I know you won’t. That’s why you’re here. Also, don’t worry, we won’t interfere with your usual duties and schedules. No overtime.”

“Thank you, Roras.”

Arek was surprised to see a hint of a smile on her face. He had expected that she was one of those who gladly worked 24 hours a day… or 31 hours a day, here on Invictus. He tried to imagine her doing any free time activity and failed. If anything, she’d probably busy herself cleaning weapons and reciting laws and rules.

“Well, where did we stop earlier… ah, yes!” Roras put down his glass, tilted his head and scratched his neck. “I’m afraid we can’t help you much with information about criminal individuals. However, we’ll supply you with everything else you need. Food, weapons, information about the infrastructure and the other colonies. I’m sorry, but that’s all we can do for you.”

“That’s already a lot, and more than we could expect, Roras, thank you.” Amalthea refused a second refill of her glass and squirmed in her seat. The mayor wasn’t what any of them had expected, and Arek guessed that she was caught between sticking to the formal codex and simply standing up, slapping his shoulder and inviting him to a beer later.

“I imagine that you’re in a hurry, but I’d advice you to stay a day or two, maybe even three,” Roras continued, looking thoughtful, nodding as though he had to confirm his own thoughts. “Get used to the climate. Read the information we can provide, get in touch with the citizens. Laudatas is different from other colonies, but it won’t hurt to get a feel of what living on Invictus means. You’ll lose more time if you rush after your clues unprepared.”

“I fear you’re right. Not all of us deal well with the heat.” Amalthea glanced at Arek, who snorted in protest.

“As if _you_ don’t feel uncomfortable. Just admit that Rani and… her being turian is the only reason why she is the only one of us who doesn’t mind.” That was close, and resulted into a weird explanation instead of a snappy reply, but all was better than giving away that Mojo was sneaking around somewhere.

“Talking about turians,” Captain Cantura interrupted, her clear-cut voice cutting through the friendly teasing. “I assume your explanation about Sentar Verrus, or whatever his name is, also was a lie.”

 _Does this woman read minds?_ Or was Arek’s blunder to obvious?

“Unfortunately, he had to stay on the Hamburg, disciplinary action,” Meyrani came to the rescue. Arek had already marveled at her skills as an actress as Dr. Terius, where she fooled a room full of Cerberus and turian military high brass. As the story came over her tongue so easily while she gave the captain a bored look, Arek wondered if fooling cold, arrogant authority figures was especially delightful to her.

The explanation satisfied the captain and made the mayor chuckle.

“Sounds like a handful. All the more I regret I cannot meet him.”

 _Same. Mojo_ _’d have fallen out of his boots if he was here with the strange pair you are._ Well, as Mojo wasn’t here he couldn’t screw things up. He’d have loved to see Mojo putting up with this Cantura person, but he’d have felt bad for Roras. The guy was alright, and the way he handled the captain was amazing.

“If you’re done here, it’s time to move the shuttle inside,” the captain directed the conversation back to business. “Meanwhile, arrangements for their accommodation have to be made.”

“Don’t worry about the latter.” Roras waved her concerns away. “I already reserved four rooms for you, just in case. We don’t depend on tourism, and we’re, well, picky about who we let behind the walls and stay here, so there are only two small hotels. If anything isn’t to your liking, tell me immediately, and I’ll get it fixed. Otherwise, the place is yours, and please consider yourself at home.”

That was an offer they gladly accepted. The mayor was right with everything. They only knew about Invictus what was written down in the codex provided by the Citadel, and that wasn’t much more than the names of the colonies, the capital, the names of the mayors and general data about the planet’s attributes. Arek was already loathing the idea of leaving the office with it’s nice, cool temperature. He and Amalthea would have problems if they had to face a fight outside Laudatas before their bodies learned to deal with the heat.

As much as he was dying to stop Cerberus and to bring Murakos to justice - if reason demanded them to stay for a while, he might as well make the best of it and enjoy the unexpected holiday.

“With that cleared, I’ll bring them to their shuttle.” Captain Cantura rose from the office chair and shoved the keyboard towards the mayor. “ _After_ you’ve turned down the air conditioning. It’s cold in here, and if they go out now, they’ll suffer a heatstroke.” She frowned at Roras, her glare saying more than a lecture.

Roras winked at Arek and the others, a cheeky “told you so” that earned him a deeper frown from Cantura. He pressed a few keys, and a moment later, the temperature was rising.

“Well, I fear that’s all for now. Too bad,” the mayor sighed. “Sometimes I wish we could be more open for visitors. Company is good fun. Let’s have lunch together, or a few drinks in the evening, or both. I’m sure we’ll be friends in no time.”

Arek didn’t doubt that, and along with Meyrani and Amalthea, he agreed at once. For now, however, it was time to leave, take care of the shuttle and to find their home for the next few days. Also, they had to figure out where Mojo was, and what was the best way to handle his presence.

Mayor Decares was about to leave them and the next steps to Captain Cantura when she received a call.

“Please, answer it, Lei. A few minutes more or less won’t hurt,” Roras encouraged her when she hesitated to accept it. She nodded, but turned her back towards the group, and kept her voice low.

“Dear, I told you, I’m at work. Of course I’m proud of you. No, you can’t come up here now, Mayor Decares has to work, too, you can’t come and go like-”

Arek raised his eyebrows. Was that the same person talking? There was a gentleness to her voice, a pride, that he hadn’t believed the captain to be capable of. Roras chuckled, and walked up close to her, and bent over her omni-tool.

“Of course you can come inside, Yuda. I’ve always time for you.”

He had hardly finished when the door opened, and a young turian girl stormed inside and towards Captain Cantura and the mayor. She forgot about her assault when she realized they weren’t alone. With wide eyes, she stared at Arek and Amalthea.

“Wow! You aren’t turians!” she chirped, her small mandibles fluttering in excitement.

“Yuda!” Captain Cantura hurried to her and pulled her away from them. “Don’t be rude, dear.”

The mayor was laughing, and neither Arek nor Amalthea could hide a smile. Arek looked at Rani, confused for a moment when he saw the shock in her eyes.

“May I introduce you my fairest godchild.” Mayor Decares stepped behind the girl, putting both hands on her shoulders as he spoke on with a solemn voice. “Yuda Cantura, daughter of the highly respected Captain of my security force. Do not be deceived. She might be a small ten years old, but she has the willpower and the aim of a veteran.”

“Hi.” Yuda waved her hand in a grand gesture, as though she was a queen giving an audience.

“Hello, Miss Yuda Cantura.” Arek waved back at her. This was the first time he was seeing a turian child, and he hadn’t been aware how adorable they were. She was small as any child, and slim as a stick, with slightly too long arms and legs. If he had known her before any other turian, he would never have assumed that their faces hardly moved. Her little nose was twitching, her mandibles didn’t stand still for a second. Her green eyes sparkled when he spoke to her. Her face wore the same markings like all the other turians he had met here in Laudatas, they were white and framing her little face. Only that her color seemed brighter than that of any other.

“Who are you? Are you a human?” she demanded with her bright, firm voice.

“That’s Ethan Wolf,” Roras answered for him. “And yes, he’s a human. This is Lanira T’Less, she’s asari. And this is Eredin Renus, she’s a turian, you know.” He laughed when she snorted at him with a disapproval that proved her to be Captain Cantura’s child.

She brushed his hands off and slipped away before her mother could grab her. With two quick steps, she was standing in front of Arek, looking at his face with curious eyes.

“Yuda!” her mother cried out when her daughter’s hand grabbed Arek’s hair without a warning.

“It’s okay, Captain Cantura. Haven’t seen a human before, Miss Yuda?” Arek chuckled when the little fingers were running through his hair. He flinched when she pulled at it, and she topped, feeling through it more carefully.

“It’s funny. I like it,” she giggled. Then she first poked Arek’s cheek with a tiny talon, then pinched it. “Wow, that’s soft! Mom!” Her head turned around. “Did you know that humans are soft? Let’s be friends, yes? The others will die when they hear I’m friends with a funny human.”

“Sure.” Arek had to hold back his laughter. She was adorable. That her mother was groaning in dismay was a bonus. Amalthea and Roras were shaking under the force of their chuckles. Only Meyrani kept staring at the little girl with an unreadable expression, and Arek already began to fear that he had committed some kind of cultural offense.

“Yuda, that’s enough.” Captain Cantura finally stepped in and pulled her daughter away from him, and lifted her up on her arms. “I apologize, Mr. Wolf. I… she’s… she’s usually a very good girl, I’m sorry you had to see her like this.”

“No harm done. She’s wonderful,” he said with sincere warmth.

“Thank you.” Captain Cantura sighed with relief, giving her daughter an affectionate squeeze. His opinion of her changed in this moment. This was another woman, warm, worried, and loving as she tenderly stroke over her child’s face while smiling at her.

“Can they come to the party tonight? I want to show them to my friends!” Yuda fell around her mother’s throat, her head leaning against the collar of her cowl as she looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“Yuda, I’m not sure if that’s possible…”

“Of course it is, Lei. Not only that, it’s an excellent idea! Thank you, Yuda!” Roras made a bow so low that made the girl giggle.

“Would you allow us the honor to join us tonight?” He turned towards the trio with open arms. “All children that turned ten since last year have received the permanent markings of Laudatas, Yuda being the last as she’s the youngest of her group. Tonight, the families celebrate this rite of passage, and of course, as the mayor, I have to attend. I mean,” he leaned towards Yuda, winking at her. “Being mayor gives me an excuse to attend, as everyone knows that there’ll be the best cakes.”

“Roras, please!” the captain groaned, while her child couldn’t stop giggling.

“We’d be honored, Mayor Roras.” Amalthea rose from her chair with a serious, solemn air. “But if this is against any rules or traditions-”

“Nonsense. You’re more than welcome, all of you. It’s the best opportunity to learn more about the city, and about the nights of Invictus.”

With that, it was settled. Arek couldn’t stop grinning at the girl and at Amalthea. This was going to be fun, and when Roras promised to make sure that there was enough to eat and to drink for him and Amalthea, nothing could go wrong anymore. Cold drinks in the cool night air, among happy families and with his friends was even better than taking a swim in the pool.

For now, Roras stood behind with Yuda, after promising Captain Cantura that the spirited girl wouldn’t be a burden at all. If the captain - like Arek - suspected that she also was a welcome excuse for him to delay his work, she didn’t show it.

“I’ll get the car. Please wait here, I’m back in a moment.” She excused herself once they arrived in the foyer. She was still strict and distant now that she was alone with them, but her voice had lost a bit of its edge. Arek revised his early judgment. They wouldn’t become good friends, but maybe it was easier to get along with her than he had given her credit. Not only wasn’t she a machine, but she also had a softer side that he found likable. And her daughter was a darling, so she couldn’t be as bad as he had thought.

“Well, sounds like we’re in for some excitement,” he laughed once the captain had left the foyer.

“You can say that again. As much as I don’t like the idea of wasting time I do think it’s the right decision to prepare thoroughly. And the mayor seems nice enough. Working with him is going to be a breeze for once.” Amalthea sat down on one of the by now familiar chairs and yawned. “Goddess, let’s just hurry with the shuttle. I need a shower, and food.”

“No objections here. What’s with you, Rani? You’ve been quiet since the kid entered the scene. Knowing anything we don’t?” He nudged her side. But Meyrani didn’t move, she kept staring at the elevator.

“I can’t believe it… I can’t believe he didn’t tell me…” she muttered, her voice low, between perplexed and irritated.

“Who didn’t tell you what?” Amalthea sat up, alarmed by Meyrani’s words.

“Are you blind? Don’t you see it?” She jerked around and snapped at her friends, her mandibles moving slowly as she controlled her growing anger.

“What do you mean?” Arek began to worry. Did they miss a vital clue, was there a danger they hadn’t been aware of as the mayor allured them with his kind, easy-going way?

“Their markings! Damn! I knew something was familiar about them!” She stomped up and down in front of the row of chairs, her hands cutting through the air. “The pattern, dammit, don’t tell me you cannot remember where you’ve seen that before,” she hissed when Arek and Amalthea exchanged a confused glance.

“Not sure what you’re talking about…” He narrowed his eyes, recalling the faces of Roras, Captain Cantura, and little Yuda. White, framing the face like a picture, starting on one mandible, continuing over the cheek, temples, and…

“Fuck!” He jumped up from his seat. “Mojo!”

“Oh, Goddess!” Amalthea whispered, her face suddenly of a pale blue at the realization.

“Damn right.” Meyrani let herself fall into one of the chairs, letting out a deep growl. “Just like the shape of his scars. Unless this is a fucking coincidence, we’re on his home planet, and this is his hometown.”

 


	29. The First Night on Invictus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake names, another party, new faces, and old habits under the stars.

Arek’s bag landed on top of the white bed cover. He dropped his clothes on the floor while walking to the small, round table. A bottle and a mug were standing on the dark, wooden top. He didn’t bother to pour himself a drink and drank the water right from the bottle.

“Good!” He put the empty bottle down and turned his attention to the square window. A thick, white curtain kept the sun outside. He shoved it aside, peeking down at the street. It was empty. The small room was located at the back of the hotel, away from the main road, and away from the merciless sun during noon and the early afternoon. Now, as the evening was coming closer, the sun was moving around the building, and while it was losing high and strength, it was still bright enough to blind him if he looked at it. Also, it was still warmer than he liked it on his face, but he didn’t feel being burnt and boiled alive anymore. He took another peek. Another building was across the road, the wall facing him without windows.

He decided to risk it. Naked as he was, he pulled the curtain aside and opened the window as wide as possible. Quickly, he pulled the curtain to protect himself from invisible watchers. Maybe the air would freshen up a bit now.

This was a nice, cozy room. The walls were painted off-white, bed cover, sheets, and pillow were as white as the curtain. There were the bed, the small table, and a chair, as well as a bookshelf and a cupboard for his belongings. All furniture were made of sturdy wood, of the same kind as the floor, he suspected. The polished brown with the light reddish tint didn’t look heavy or depressing, if anything, it saved the room from feeling sterile and cold. As far as the world cold could be applied to anything on this hell of a planet.

Arek took a closer look at the bed, pushing his hands against it. The pillow was soft. The mattress was a bit too firm for his taste, but it would do. He let the cover run through his fingers. It was soft, and so thin that he bet he could see through it if he held it against a light. He suspected that it was for those who preferred to wrap themselves up during their sleep. It would hardly provide any warmth, and he was grateful for that. Each room came with a small bathroom of its own, and a communication panel that they had been encouraged to use to contact the staff whenever they had a wish or anything was amiss. He decided to make use of it and order more water. After a shower.

All over all, the room was simple, but nice and clean, and he assumed that a real water shower for every guest was a luxury on this planet. It was about time he made good use of it.

About twenty minutes later, Arek came out of the bathroom, after the best shower he had ever experienced in his whole life. The room was still warm, but less stuffy. He ignored the towels and inspected the offered books while he let the air dry him. A gentle breeze, and everything would have been perfect for the moment. He browsed through one of the books and put it back. Everything was written in turian, and his skills didn’t go further than deciphering the most important signs and a handful of names, places and warnings. He pulled a pair of pants from his bag and slipped into it. He had to ask Roras later if there were any stores that sold clothes suitable for humans. The black, tight pants he had brought looked best on him, but for once, his vanity was punishing him.

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye the moment he had closed the button. He turned around. The curtain was moving slightly, and he saw the silhouette of a turian behind it.

“What are you waiting for? Come in, you idiot!” Arek stomped towards the curtain and pulled it aside.

“Who are you calling an idiot.” Mojo was sitting on the window sill, his back against the frame, legs stretched out.

“The one who observed handsome naked me from the sideline. Come in already.” Arek grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside the room.

“I wasn’t watching.” He followed Arek while he was returning to his back for a clean shirt. He stood behind him, put his hands on Arek’s bare shoulders. His talons traced the pattern of the freckles.

“Of course not.” Arek threw the shirt back on the bed. He shivered under Mojo’s touch when the rough fingers moved over his neck. “And I know what you’re up to.”

“Then why don’t you just shut up and let me do it?” His hands wandered down Arek’s spin and from there, around his waist and over his hips. He lowered his head, gently nibbling Arek’s throat.

“Fuck you, that’s unfair,” Arek sighed, and put his hands on Mojo’s, stopping them from opening his pants.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Taking a deep breath, Arek regretted the question when Mojo’s hands slipped away. He listened to him walking through the room. “And please, don’t even try any ‘no idea what you’re talking about’ bullshit.”

“What should I’ve told you?” Mojo came to a halt and leaned against the door leading to the bathroom. “That I didn’t want to come back? That I wasn’t looking forward to see this dump again, and everyone who’s living here?”

“You could have told us that this is your home, and why you don’t want to show your face here, instead of pulling a stunt like earlier. You could at least have told me.” Maybe that was the core of his disappointment. Whenever he thought they were becoming closer Mojo found a way to show him that he wasn’t welcome in his life.

“If I told you I might as well have told the whole ship,” Mojo snapped and walked back to the window.

“You know that’s not true!” That hurt. Arek hurried after him, holding him back by his arm when Mojo had set one foot on the sill.

“Whatever. I didn’t come here to get lectured by you. See you later.” He shook Arek off and took a quick look around. When the air was clear, he pulled the hood back over his face and climbed on the sill.

“Fuck this, Mojo, I’m not lecturing you!” His temper was flaring up, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a while, but that he was still familiar with. If Mojo wanted to go back to treating him like an asshole, fine! Two could play the game… But he didn’t want to. “I just don’t get you, and what’s going on in your head!”

“Now that’s something new.” Mojo gave a hard chuckle, and Arek lowered his head, clenching his hands into fists. He glared at the floor, too angry and hurt to think of a sharp reply.

Gentle fingers stroke over his cheek and moved under his chin, lifting it up.

“I… be careful, Arek.” Mojo sighed, leaning his forehead against Arek’s for a second. “Don’t trust anybody, that includes Roras. And that Cantura woman. Sorry, gotta go.” Within seconds, he was back in the window, and disappeared. Arek stared after him, rubbing his arms when a chill made him shudder. What hurt most was that he really didn’t get him, and Mojo was right, that really wasn’t something new. First, he only felt betrayed by the lack of trust in their growing friendship, and now he feared that he had trampled it down and destroyed it. But… how was he supposed to understand if this idiot refused to talk while letting out his mood swings on him? What was he thinking, switching from teasing to snapping at him within seconds, as though that would keep Arek from addressing the elephant in the room. Mojo could have saved himself the trouble by not showing up at all, and if he thought that his illogical behavior made any sense to anyone, then he really was an idiot.

Yet, Arek felt sorry for him, this had to be difficult for him, and as Mojo was who he was, he was making it not easier.

A knock on the door made him jump around. A look at the clock on the wall - yes, it was almost time for the party, Amalthea and Meyrani had promised to come for him when they were ready.

“Just a moment!” He hastened back to the bed, grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head while he stumbled towards the door.

 

*

 

What he had thought would be a family celebration exceeded his expectation.

Another officer of the security forces had been waiting for them when they left the hotel, and guided them back to the heart of the city. From there, she had led past the pool - to Arek’s disappointment - and down another road. The sun was already setting on the horizon, but it was still bright as day, and would stay like that for another four hours or so, the officer explained to them.

After a walk of twenty minutes, the street ended in a yard, the market place, as they were told.

The yard was buzzing with turians of all ages, from children to seniors. Instead of artificial lightning, torches were seaming the place, burning with real fire. It was too early for them to show off in their full glory, but they already gave the illusion of older, simpler times. Arek thought of the bonfires in his childhood, and the stories of his grandmother, who always said that in her childhood, torches and open fire had been the most common thing, and he envied her for those times.

He spotted a band at the other end of the yard, but the members were chatting, cheering and clanging their bottles against each other. The music was coming from well hidden speakers; a cheerful electric melody, with drums rolling in the background like thunder. Children were running and laughing between the more composed adults, their parents having an eye on them in case they had to stop them from causing any real trouble. They moved through the crowed, and the smell of food reached Arek’s nose. Sweet mixed with the scent of roasted meat, but there was also an unpleasant note of sour and bitter in the air. He had caught a similar smell sometimes from Meyrani’s or Mojo’s food, and suspected this to be one of the differences between levo and dextro.

They reached a flat fountain in the center of the yard. Roras waved at them, beckoning them to join him and the small group he was chatting with. Captain Lei Cantura was with him, but Arek hadn’t seen the other two turians before.

“Thank you, Officer Denus. Now enjoy the evening.” Roras smiled at the young woman, who excused herself with a polite nod. The mayor moved between Amalthea and Arek, putting his arms around their shoulders.

“Everyone, please meet my guests,” he began to introduce them. “Ethan, Lanira, and Eredin, sent by the Citadel’s council, but I think we can forget about the formalities for tonight. And these are Atens Taratus, my brother-in-law, and Sorodin Cantura, Lei’s husband and, of course, the father of Princess Yuda.”

Sorodin, a turian with the grave eyes, shook Arek’s hand. He was maybe half a head taller than Mojo. The plates around his eyes looked brittle, and the white markings were cracked where they covered the mandibles. He seemed to be a lot older than Lei, although Arek had a hard time to guess both their age. He was serious and didn’t speak or laugh much, but he lacked the rigid strictness of his wife. Maybe it wasn’t years that had aged him, but living under her command… No, that was unfair. He had seen how gently she treated her child, so maybe the hard part was just a facade her position demanded.

“Ethan!” A small figure fell around Arek’s waist and pushed him against Roras. He looked down at Yuda’s excited face. Her eyes were sparkling with glee.

“Dear, please greet everyone,” her mother chided softly. Without letting go of Arek, the girl looked around, throwing a quick hi at Amalthea and Meyrani, and turned her attention back to Arek. She was deaf to the chuckles of the adults around her.

“Hello, Yuda. You look pretty. Almost grown up.” If she were a human, Arek would have patted her head, but he had no idea what was an appropriate gesture for turian children, so his hands were helplessly hanging in the air. Roras, meanwhile, had organize two large glasses filled to the rim for Meyrani and Amalthea, and all of them watched the scenario with great amusement.

“Almost?!” Yuda let out an indignant snort. “I have my face markings. I _am_ grown up!”

“Really?” Arek grinned, daring to poke the crest of her forehead. “Grown ups are so boring, I’d never have guessed you’re one of them.” He bit his lip to stop himself from chuckling at her frown and the little growl. Finally, she raised her head, and spoke with an air of dignity,

“For tonight, I’ll accept almost.” Suddenly, the frown was gone. She took Arek’s hand in hers, and tried to pull him with her. “Dance with me!” But this time, her mother interfered.

“Yuda, that’s enough.” She pried her daughter’s hand free from Arek. She tried to lift her up, but Yuda felt far to grown up tonight to be carried around like a baby.

“Stop that, mom. I want to dance with him!” the girl protested, fighting against her mother’s grip on her shoulders.

“No, Yuda Cantura,” her father took the side of his wife and turned to Arek with an apologetic smile. “I apologize for my daughter. She’s been talking about the human with the fiery hair all afternoon, I fear she has a little crush on you.”

“Father!”

“Uh…” Arek shot a glare at Meyrani who snorted next to him at that revelation. He looked at Amalthea for help, but she was hiding her grin behind her glass, slightly shaking her head - he was on his own in this battle.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little too old for you, Yuda.” He smiled weakly at her, scratching the back of his head, but quickly shoving his hand in his pocket when he realized that she was staring at his hair.

“In ten years I’m old enough. That’s nothing.”

“Well… I’m not getting younger, and…” How was he supposed to reject a little girl without hurting her feelings?

“Why don’t you ask Ledeka to dance with you? Didn’t you like her so much?” her mother suggested, and Arek hardly believed how grateful he was for her help. Although this wasn’t the kind situation he would ever have expected to need her assistance for.

“Yes, but mom, look, he has _hair!_ And it’s _red!_ Nobody else has a friend with red hair!”

So the little devil wanted to show him off to her friends! Arek chuckled, liking the idea. Maybe he should have played along, considering her few minutes of fame among her peers as his gift to honor her face markings. If that was even a custom, he should ask Mojo about it. He stopped smiling. More than two decades ago, a young Mojo had been running around with his friends in this yard, proud of a permanent tattoo that replaced the painted markings in his face. A full member of his colony, almost an adult. And one day, something happened, and everything went down the drain.

“I know who you’re thinking of,” a voice whispered in his ear, and he looked at Meyrani’s friendly face. “Me too. But I’ll let you talk to him first.” She gave him a nudge and winked at him. Arek pulled a face, but couldn’t help but grin.

“Thanks,” he whispered back and focused on Yuda and her parents before anyone wondered what he and Rani were talking about. Fortunately, everyone was far too amused about the little stubborn girl that put up a fiery discussion with her mom and dad.

“Enough, Yuda.” The mother retreated, and made way for Captain Cantura. Yuda stopped talking, and her mandibles pressed tightly against her mouth. “We already ignored the traditions and invited them tonight. The dances are for the children that leave childhood behind this year on their way to become strong, trustworthy and dependable adults. I expect you to understand this. If not, then you’re telling me that this celebration comes one year too early for you.”

That hit home. Yuda didn’t talk back. She straightened her shoulders, frowned at her mother with an angry glare, and looked at Arek with disappointed eyes. Finally, she turned around and dashed off.

“Please don’t think that I’m against humans. Or anyone of you because you’re outsiders.” Captain Cantura directed her attention to Arek. “We have few, but cherished traditions that are important to us. Also, I know that little children always have their crushes, and I’m aware that you don’t mean harm. But please understand that I don’t want to encourage her fancy for a human adult who is going to leave us in a few days.”

He assured her that he understood, and promised that he had no intentions of encouraging the girl as well. Cute as it was, there were limits. The way she poke worried him, as though she feared he would go after a child, but he tried to not take it as a personal insult. The way many of the turian citizens were looking at him, although with less open fascination than little Yuda, he had come to the conclusion that humans were rare guests in this city. Amalthea was greeted with less wonder and skepticism, so even when she was the only asari he had seen since their arrival, the citizens seemed to be more used to her sight.

A woman approached him. She was smiling, and in her thin dress, she reminded him of Meyrani’s disguise. She introduced herself as Selen Andromos and asked if he’d mind a few questions.

“Of course not. Ask ahead, I’ll answer the best I can.”

“Excellent. So I heard _you_ came from the Citadel? Since when are humans allowed there?” There was no malice in her voice, only genuine astonishment. He had a hard time guessing her age, the way she talked to him she reminded him of elderly humans who forgot that the world had kept turning over the last 50 years. He answered with the gentle patience he’d have had with one of her grandmother’s friends. If he could have been honest instead of making up a career that wasn’t his he would have enjoyed the conversation.

More turians joined, everyone with questions of their own. Fortunately, Meyrani showed mercy after a while and helped him coming up with believable answers.

“Well, you’re lucky that the Council sent you here,” Selen remarked rather stiffly when Meyrani finished talking. “You’ll have a pleasant time here. Unlike on _other_ planets inhabited by turians.” Now, that wasn’t naive or curious. Those around them snickered. Arek needed a moment to remember that Meyrani was from Palaven, and he thought of the many teasing and mocking remarks about the turian homeworld from Mojo. So she had to face cutting remarks, while the same people thought of the human race as toddlers.

Charming. Well, he didn’t want to blame them for their prejudices, obviously, the citizens of Laudatas didn’t see much of their own world, let alone the galaxy. Security and wealth were coming with a prize. He wasn’t so sure if he’d be willing to pay it if offered the choice, and he wondered if those who grew up in this cage never were driven outside by their curiosity. Well, there was one who left, but from what he knew - or guessed - there had been severe reasons than being curious.

His glass was empty, and he used it as an excuse to leave the friendly, but noisy group. He strolled through the crowd. Many looked, but everyone was too engrossed in their own conversations, or too polite, to talk to him.

The band had put their drinks down and live music filled the air. It was still warm, but bearable, and with a light breeze on his skin he was feeling quite comfortable. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon. The sky was black without any moon. He looked up. The warm light of the torches wasn’t bright enough to obstruct the view at the stars, but he wondered what he would see if he was surrounded by the darkness of the night.

He found his way to the buffet. A friendly turian man showed him the table with levo dishes and drinks, and expressed his hope that he would find the selections satisfying. Arek was sure he would. He identified a few bottles of beer, a bottle of wine, and a variety of meat, fried and cooked vegetables, and fruits. He didn’t recognized any of them from Earth, but assumed that they were typical asari dishes. He picked a slice of meat and some of the green and pink vegetables standing next to it. He chewed carefully and wasn’t disappointed. The meat was tender and reminded him of veal. The vegs were more raw than cooked, with a potato-like texture, but a fruity and tart taste. There was enough to feed a dozen of humans, or asari. If there was something he had to praise about this city, then it was the generosity of its citizens, and its leader.

“Taking a break from the curious kids?” Roras had come to refill his glass and joined him. “Did they bother you a lot? I apologize in their names. We do regular business with asari and volus, sometimes with salarian, but I think it has been more than a decade since the last time we had a human visitor.” So Arek had been right, humans weren’t a common sight, and for many, he had been the first human they’d ever seen.

“Don’t worry, Roras.” He put his plate down and grabbed a fruit that looked the closest to an apple. “To be honest, I don’t mind at all to be the heart of a party,” he explained with a grin, taking a careful bite. Juicy, very sweet, hardly any flavor beside that. “But yeah, it was a long day, and it’s easier to swim against a deluge of questions with a full stomach.”

Roras laughed, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. _Don_ _’t trust anyone. Dammit, Mojo, why can’t you explain yourself for once?_ He didn’t want to distrust Roras. The mayor was fun, generous, and did everything in his power to help them and make their stay pleasant.

 _What the hell happened, Mojo? What if things have changed? People change._ Unless he didn’t know what was going on and why Mojo hated his own hometown, he found it difficult to listen to his warning. But he didn’t want to distrust Mojo either.

“Any wishes what you guys’d like to do tomorrow?” Roras and Arek clinked glasses. “Amalthea and I agreed to meet in the morning to clear any questions and exchange information. I can’t tell how long this will take, but you should be free in the afternoon. Anything you want to see or do?”

“The jungle,” it burst out of Arek, making Roras laugh again.

“I’m sorry,” Arek grinned sheepishly. “I heard the jungle is dangerous, and not exactly a place for sight seeing.”

“And the warning makes it all the more interesting, right?” Roras grinned back. “Whoever told you that is right, but also wrong. It’s dangerous, _and_ it’s an amazing place for sight seeing. If you know what you’re doing. I’ll ask Lei to assign a guide to you. If not tomorrow, then the day after tomorrow. If you want.”

“Absolutely!” Arek beamed. “Well, if Thea doesn’t mind, that is.” If the dangerous aspect about Roras was that he easily made one forget about work, well, than this guy was indeed a villain. He added Laudatas to his list of places in the galaxy for his next vacation. Unless the city wasn’t what it seemed, but he found it hard to believe it. Even if a few individuals weren’t trustworthy, he doubted that Laudatas was a city full of actors. The curiosity, the friendly welcome from Roras, or the two turians who had handled their paperwork, that couldn’t have been just an act to fool them!

If there was anything, or someone, who endangered the peace, then he wanted to weed them out! But without some answers from Mojo, he didn’t have any idea where to start. Also, what if things weren’t as Mojo tried to make him believe? It wouldn’t be the first time he overreacted.

_Goddammit, you idiot, talk to me!_

“Say what you want about our climate. But the nights are beautiful,” Roras sighed, and Arek realized that he had been staring at the sky. Hopefully, he hadn’t missed any of the mayor’s questions.

“True. Say…” A thought was coming to his mind. Maybe Roras could help him with something.

“The view must be amazing from the top of the towers. No lights, only the jungle and the desert to the left and right, and the sky above. Is there a way to get up there?”

“I’m afraid not. The roofs of the towers aren’t accessible except for maintenance, and also not the prettiest places around here. If you want to take one of your ladies - or both,” Roras added with a wink, “I’d either suggest the academy or the agriculture center. They’re among the highest buildings, and perfect for star gazing. The academy is closer though. Down the road.” The glass in his hand, he pointed above Arek’s head. Arek couldn’t see far with the many turians in his way, but he got the general direction. If the academy really was taller than other buildings, it should be easy to find.

“Maybe I will. Later or tomorrow. Thanks, Roras.”

“Anything for a buddy. How about a beer?”

“Thanks, water will do.”

 

x x x

 

The door unlocked and slid open. Arek switched off the light in the corridor behind him and stepped through a curtain of heavy vines. The closing door disappeared from his sighed. The ground was covered with a thick layer of grass. He put off his shoes, feeling the fresh green tickling his soles. Roras hadn’t promised too much. The academy’s roof was amazing. The last thing he had expected was a garden with palms and trees, green bushes with thick leaves, and flowerbeds. He continued his way, allowing himself to fall for the illusion of lush nature. It was warm and humid, but he couldn’t tell if the weather had changed or if the plants created a local climate of their own.

A leaf he touched trembled and rolled itself up. He touched another one, and the same happened. Further up the tree, he spotted small fruits that reminded him of grapes. It was too dark to make out the color, and they were too high for him to reach.

He continued his way towards the middle of the roof.

“Of course you’re here.” He didn’t have to see the face in the darkness to know who was lying on the meadow, the head resting on a thick root. A sniper rifle was lying by his side.

“And you’re making a habit of climbing roofs.”

“Not this time.” He held up a key card that Mojo probably couldn’t see anyway. “Roras gave it to me. He also told me about the roof.”

“So you’re best friends already. Why am I not surprised. You’re so much alike.” Mojo still stared into the sky. Arek walked up to him, blocking the view.

“I take that as a compliment. Because so far, he’s been a great guy, and I can’t remember anyone explaining to me why he isn’t.”

“I don’t want to talk. Go away.” Pretending that Arek wasn’t there, Mojo stared through him. Arek waited, but nothing happened, and nothing was said. His temper was rising, and he withstood the urge to punch sense into Mojo.

“So we’re back to that? You’re a joke,” he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. “One night you kiss me and play with my hair, the other night you’re a cold, stubborn asshole. If these are the facets your always rambling about, they can go to hell! And you with them!” Why did this have to be so difficult? He was tired of falling five steps back for every step forward. They did get along so well, they did enjoy each other’s presence, that hadn’t been an illusion. He wanted this friendship, Mojo’s trust and gentleness. He had had it for a night, and he refused to let Mojo take it away from him again.

“I am in hell. This rotten city is my hell. And of course _you_ have no idea.” Mojo sounded tired. His words lacked scorn and mockery, and that made it worse.

“I’ve no idea what made you leave, because you idiot aren’t talking to me!” Arek raised his voice, his fists shaking. “But whatever it was, yeah, I get it, it sucks to be you. Somewhere here is your family, and you can’t see them. Everyone’s doing their business as though whatever went wrong for you never happened. Kids are running and playing and celebrated tonight, like little Mojo back then. And you’re here, unable to escape the bad memories, and the good ones.” He was yelling at Mojo, growing more and more frustrated when Mojo only looked at him, without a word, without the slightest nod or shaking of his head. Nothing.

“And what are you doing? Being an asshole to the ones who want to trust you, hiding your face, and pouting. And you know what? I’m fed up with this shit. Keep pouting, for the Gods’ sake, if you think that helps you solve this shit. Good night.” That felt good. Arek glared at him, his frown disappearing, and the shaking stopped. He was sorry for him. He had to say the words aloud to understand that Mojo was right, this had to be hell for him, but if Mojo insisted on pushing him away, then there was nothing he could do. He had run after him often enough, if Mojo wanted anything, he knew where to find him.

He sighed, and turned away.

A hand closed around his wrist, holding him back.

“What?” His head jerked around. Mojo had sat up, staring at him.

Suddenly, Arek was pulled down. He fell on top of Mojo. One arm was wrapped around him, a hand reached for his head and clawed into his hair. Mojo pressed his mouth against his, biting Arek’s lips. When Arek gasped at the pain, Mojo’s tongue filled his mouth.

Caught in a rough, hungry kiss, Arek closed his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of ideas for chapter titles D:
> 
> Also, sorry for the cliffhanger.
> 
> All over all, this is not fun anymore. I'm not ready to abandon this fic yet, but expect a longer hiatus.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who came by and followed up to this point. You're amazing and made a silly woman very happy. Who knows, maybe, one day, I'll feel like continuing this fic and bringing Mojo's and Arek's story to an end. Until then... I don't know. Might focus more on Zootopia and Minions for a change, doing something that's really popular.
> 
>  
> 
> ...  
>  ~~Or maybe not. Happy April's Fools Day! Please pretend that you were shocked for at least a second! ;)~~


	30. An Artificial Garden in an Artificial Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidents happen, and sometimes, they lead to things that should have been said a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that there's a good chance you'll hate me for this chapter D:
> 
> Sorry! I'll make up for it!

Mojo hardly allowed him to catch his breath. Arek sat up, shifting until he straddled Mojo’s lap. Mojo grabbed his shirt and pulled over his head. Arek heard the fabric tear where talons ripped through it. He flinched and shuddered when teeth bit through the skin of his throat. Impatient hands were running over his back, the the talons leaving long, red marks. Sweat burnt in the fresh scratches, while the breeze sent a chill down his spine.

This was more like Arek had imagined sex with a turian to be; rough, hungry and painful, not the careful tenderness Mojo had shown before. Mojo took hold of his face, pulled him into another kiss Arek couldn’t escape. So was this real, and Mojo had held back the last times? He wrapped his arms around Mojo’s neck, leaving the control of the kiss to him. One hand clawed into his shoulder, the other went for his pants, and fumbled with the button.

Arek pushed his questions aside, allowing himself to lose himself in the feeling of being desired. He wanted to help Mojo with opening his pants, but Mojo grabbed him by the hips and pushed him around and down to the ground. Arek took the chance to gasp for air. He hardly felt the impact when his back hit the ground, only how the grass cooled his skin. He hurried to open his pants before Mojo teared them to shreds. Talons scratched him during Mojo’s struggle to pull Arek’s pants down.

“Wait, I take them off myself,” Arek chuckled, swallowing against a dry cough. He was almost surprised that Mojo cared for what he had to say - he let go of Arek’s pants to take care of his own. Arek reached for Mojo’s shirt to free him from it, but Mojo was already busy biting and licking Arek’s throat again, kneeling between Arek’s legs. His arms around Mojo’s neck, Arek felt the turian’s groin swell against. Himself, he was hard, his body shaking under the rough way he was handled. His eyes wide open, he stared into the sky, more sensing than seeing the distant veil of stars above them.

Finally, they’d fuck again, just what he wanted it, but…

“Mojo…” It wasn’t the roughness that bothered him.

“Hey…” Or that Mojo didn’t say anything. Or that he didn’t waste time with teasing Arek, or worrying that he was all right, or playing with his hair. He had enjoyed sex like this before, with many others, it wasn’t wrong for him.

“Mojo… stop!” Arek cried out the last word in pain.

Talons were drilling into his right shoulder, and cut the flesh of his upper arm open.

The weight was lifted from his body, leaving him lying in the grass, panting. Through squinted eyes he saw Mojo above him, staring at his hands, then at Arek.

“I… Spirits…” Mojo stammered, his hands shaking.

Sex like this wasn’t wrong for Arek, but it was for Mojo.

Arek sat up, flinching at the pain in his arm. He looked at the wound - blood was running down his arm. Mojo picked up the closest piece of clothing he could get hold of, Arek’s shirt.

“I’m sorry… Spirits, Arek, I’m sorry…” Muttering apologies over and over again, he pressed the shirt against Arek’s arm.

“It’s okay. It was an accident, things like that happen.” Arek gritted his teeth against the pain. He put his left hand on Mojo’s to make him stop, and took the shirt from him. Carefully, he wiped the blood away, trying to get a better look at the damage. Three deep cuts that wouldn’t heal without leaving scars, but they looked worse than they were. No muscles were damaged, and they didn’t need to be stitched up.

“No…” Mojo sat down, and stared again at his hands. “This must _never_ happen. I… I’m so sorry… I’m not better than…” He was trembling. “I don’t want to be like this…”

Arek couldn’t help but smiling. He dropped the shirt, and crawled over to Mojo.

“I know you aren’t. And don’t even try to give me any ‘I don’t deserve to be forgiven’ bullshit,” he said when Mojo raised his head. He had opened his mouth, but closed it.

“Don’t run away, okay?” He put a hand on Mojo’s cheek and straddled him a second time. “The timing sucked, and an accident happened. I don’t blame you.” Arek didn’t doubt him for one moment. Yes, he ended up with an injury in addition to a few scratches, but it had been nothing but an honest mistake. He looked down into the scared face with the desperate eyes and knew it would never happen again. Arek bent down, and gave him a light kiss.

“I’m sorry.” Mojo threw his arms around Arek. He pulled him close, and buried his face in the crook of Arek’s neck. Arek squirmed; the skin of his back was sensitive from the scratches, and the rough arms moving over them burnt. But he didn’t say anything, instead, he put one arm on Mojo’s back, needing a second to find a good position - hugging a turian man was more difficult than he had thought, with the carapace in the way. His other hand stroke over the back of Mojo’s head, gently scratching over the scale-like plates.

“I know,” was all he said, and they both fell silent. They were holding each other, and he felt Mojo breathing against his throat and his chest heaving against his own. That was all there was, breathing and heartbeats in a moonless night, in a garden on a roof in a desert town. Warm air and humidity made Arek sweat, the gentle breeze gave him chills. The heat of the day was still in his flesh and bones while the hairs on his body stood up as though he was freezing. The breeze whispered through the leaves around him, a faint voice of nature that lacked the chirps and shrieks of animal life. The wind had turned since he had come here, and carried the distant voices and music away from him. They were alone, and all that was left for him to do was to hold Mojo until he stopped shaking.

“You can cry if you want,” he whispered, tightening the hug. “I probably can’t really get what all this is doing to you, but I think if I was in your place, I’d be bawling.” He smiled with relief when Mojo chuckled.

“I’m okay.” Maybe more a wish than a lie, either way, Arek saw through it.

“You’re a lot, first of all, stubborn, but you’re not okay.” Arek tried to pinch his neck, but doubted Mojo could feel that through the thick skin.

“Maybe not, but better.” With a sigh, Mojo let go of him. He looked up at Arek and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Arek. I fucked this up.” The sincerity in Mojo’s voice touched Arek, the more when he thought of the long way they had to come. The mutual loathing, the times when they gloated over the thought when the other fucked up and failed, it all was so far more away than only a few weeks.

“Shut up already, it was my fault.” Arek bumped his forehead against Mojo’s, speaking with the same genuine sincerity. “I knew something was wrong, I should have stopped you right away.”

“Bullshit, I’m responsible for what I-”

“Gods, Mojo, we could go on like this all night and waste the only few hours of the day when this fucking sun isn’t trying to kill me. Or we stop this crap and you finally tell me your story.” A bold move that risked to raise Mojo’s defense again. But if Arek blamed anything for his cut shoulder, then it was how Mojo had avoided to talk, and how everyone else hadn’t dared to break through him.

Mojo nodded. They slipped back into their clothes. Arek decided that his shirt was ruined for good. The white fabric was soaked with his blood, torn in several spots. Cleaning and mending wouldn’t save it. He’d dispose of it later, somewhere where nobody would ask for an explanation. The blood on his arm was already drying, and the wound began to itch. This also had to wait until later.

They lied down on the grass, side by side, looking up into the sky. The longer Arek stared, the clearer the shapes of the stars became. What was nothing but blurred blotches on the dark firmament separated into tiny spots and invisible lines between them that weaved the pattern of far away systems.

“What kind of academy is this?” Arek broke the silence.

“Basic science and military training, well, mostly the theoretical part for the latter.” Mojo lifted his hands and counted his points. “Strategies, weapons, history, more weapons, rules, and also, weapons. The real training grounds for shooting are further down the road. The garden is something like the final project for those who want to work in agriculture. It’s usually closed for anyone who doesn’t belong to the faculty.”

“But you, of course, found a way up here,” Arek chuckled. “I guess you were here for military training?”

“Yeah. Good times. Hey, this will make you laugh - I was a role model of a student, really dedicated, and the teachers’ favorite.”

Arek laughed indeed, that was something he hadn’t expected. Mojo, the eager student, sucking up to teachers, handing in assignments on time, polite, and no backtalk? He chuckled to himself for a moment. The thought was too precious, and laughing felt good.

“It’s true. I was excellent at handling weapons, especially sniper rifles,” Mojo continued when Arek had calmed down. “Not just shooting, but also dismantling, assembling, repairing, all this stuff.” He sighed. Arek bit on his tongue, curious where the story was leading, but he feared that Mojo would stop talking at all if Arek pushed him in his impatience.

“Roras occasionally visited our classes.” The amusement was gone from Mojo’s voice, and he almost spat out when he said the name. “To chat with the instructors, and also with us. That time, he was a member of the LSG and the captain’s right hand. He came to check if potential candidates were among us. He was one of the most popular guys in the whole fucking city, something like a local celebrity. Damn, I was so proud when he came to me one day and told me I was the kind of guy he was looking for. I… Spirits, I had no clue what to say, I just stuttered something like ‘Thank you, Sir’.”

“You had a crush on him!” To Arek’s surprise, Mojo laughed at this exclamation.

“In a way, that’s true. He was some kind of hero to me. When I was ten, Laudatas was attacked by a gang from the capital. The old captain was wounded, and it was Roras who took over, and killed their leader himself. I wanted to be like him. Smart, strong, charismatic. But when he made that offer to me, I was just a nervous 18 years old who couldn’t string a few words together.”

“So you agreed to become a security officer?” Arek had to change his picture of Mojo more than once lately, and what he was hearing painted over everything he had once thought Mojo was. A teacher’s pet and awkward teenager who had grown into a merc, hacker and a tender lover. Strange, how life sometimes shaped a person into someone who had nothing to do with who he used to be. Or so it seemed. Arek wasn’t sure if what Mojo was telling him contradicted who Mojo was today, or if it explained it.

“No, not right away. I was already working part time as an assistant teacher at the academy, and I liked it. Thought that would be my career, and I was looking forward to it. My father was an instructor, but my mother was a security officer. So basing my decision on following my parents’ footsteps wasn’t an option, either.”

Arek thought of a younger Mojo who was still wearing his face markings. A young man with a crush on his childhood hero, who loved handling weapons. A Mojo with a family and plans for his future, and who was satisfied with his life.

“It’s difficult to picture you standing in front of a class as a teacher,” he finally said when his imagination failed.

“Yeah, but back then, things were different. Can’t even imagine it myself now.” He sat up, rubbing his forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if these are really _my_ memories.”

“And? Which path did you choose?”

“The path away from Invictus. Things happened before I could make up my mind.” He paused again.

“Mojo, I don’t wanna pry, but if Roras is dangerous, I have to know why. We have to rely on him for now, and if we don’t know what to expect it can easily get us killed here.”

“I know, and I should have said something way sooner. It’s just… I don’t know. Let’s walk a bit.” He stood up, and offered Arek a hand. Arek took it and was pulled to his feet. Mojo picked up his rifle and a bag and shoved both over his shoulder. Staying close to him, Arek followed Mojo. They walked at a slow pace, but it was too dark for Arek to see where his feet were guiding him. He spotted a tree bearing fruits that looked like those he had eaten at the party. The tree itself could have passed as an apple tree anytime. Gnarly branches of other plants wounded into the sky, covered in long spikes. There were more bushes and trees, with fruits and without, but Arek would care about their beauty in the daylight. Now he was impatient for the ugly part of Mojo’s tale.

Mojo halted in front of a slender tree with fine branches that were hanging down like hair. He plucked off one of the lengthy leaves and rubbed it between his fingers. A pleasant scent filled Arek’s nose, a bit like vanilla and mint, with a strong, fresh note he couldn’t identify.

“I thought I didn’t give a fuck anymore about all this bullshit, that it was just another story, but when Amalthea said his name… Guess I still bother.” He flicked the leaf away and turned around, ripping one of the thin branches off that was hanging in his face.

 _Could have told you that, why else would you always make a fuss about your past life if you didn_ _’t give a damn about it?_ He didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that much.

“In my free time, I often hiked through the jungle. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. We loved that damn place, all kids did. The adults were aware that neither threats nor reason would keep us away from there, but would rather fire us up all the more.” They continued their walk. Arek wondered how big this place was, or if it was one of those parks that appeared larger than they were with their wounded paths that led visitors in circles.

“As soon as children here learn to walk they’re taught about the plants and animals there, how to read tracks, what to do in emergencies. So most of us are familiar with the jungle, and I really liked it there. Good place to hunt, or just to be alone.” They came to a small fountain. It was simple and without decorum, its purpose was to supply water instead of aesthetics, Arek assumed. He took the chance to wash his own blood off his hands. Mojo waited until he had dried them off on his pants, and continued,

“It’s irony at its best that I went there to think about Roras’ offer. Do I want to do in the future what I like to do and have already got some experience in, and work with my father? Or do I want a job where I could become a hero one day? And work with my mother, and Roras? Hoped to find the right answer somewhere in that deadly place, and boy, didn’t I get one.” His laugh sent a shiver down Arek’s spine. It was cold and raw and made Arek’s own throat feel dry. So now they were coming to the meat of the story, and he began to doubt that he really wanted to hear it. There was no choice, Mojo would finish what he had started, and their friendship and maybe their lives depended on Arek listening and understanding.

“There’s a depression in the jungle, caused by an earthquake centuries ago. The mires begin at the foot of a steep ledge. You have to be careful not to slip there. If the roots don’t break your neck, there’s a good chance that you drown in the swamp before the poison from the bushes around there kill you off.”

Arek shuddered. He could think of hundreds of more pleasant places to die. Living in the artificial environment of a spaceship sometimes made him forget about the cruelty of nature. Taking a walk in a place like this sounded more like Mojo than working as a teacher. Maybe he should rethink his plans of visiting the jungle. Risking his life over an unnecessary adventure wasn’t worth it.

“Anyway, the mires are usually avoided. Dangerous, ugly, nothing great to hunt there. But that day, I heard voices coming from there. Don’t ask me why, but I got curious.” Mojo shrugged, sounding guilty. Arek didn’t have to ask, his sense of curiosity would have been tickled as well.

“I crept closer to the ledge, but didn’t see anything, so I climbed down. Carefully of course, to not get myself killed, but also, I didn’t want to be seen. No idea why, but somehow I sensed that something was off.

I hid behind a tree when I spotted a group of four. Two were security officers, one worked in the office tower. The fourth was a salarian. When I saw him I knew something bad was going on. I had seen him before, in the news. Officially, he was wanted for dealing with Red Sand. Unofficially, he was having a chat with three respectable members of oh so respectable Laudatas. Then I noticed a fifth person.” Mojo froze on the spot. He stared into the distance where Arek could see how he was searching for the right words to drag the memories back to the surface.

“Redor Taratus. Another officer. He and his brother were close friends of my parents. I’ve known him since I was little. He had been lying on the ground, but when he started to move, they pulled him up. He couldn’t stand on his legs, and I realized they were broken. They laughed, and punched him, and the salarian pulled a gun and…”

Mojo stopped. Arek heard him swallow hard in the darkness. Mojo’s fingers were clenched to fists and shaking. Arek wished he could just take one of them, but he worried that right now, being touched was the last thing Mojo could handle.

“He killed him?” he prompted softly.

“No. He shot one of his arms. Then, the other officers pushed him into the mire. I…” Mojo closed his eyes. His mandibles trembled and finally dropped.

“Arek, I’ve never seen someone being killed before. During the attacks years ago I was kept inside, and I’ve only seen people being killed in the news. But there I saw Redor, who was like an uncle to me, saw him flailing with his one good arm. And his screams… Spirits. And they were standing there, laughing, and mocking him. I know, I’ve killed myself countless times since then, but… Maybe I can handle that because none of those I killed screamed as loud as Redor.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry…” He had no clue what else to say. Arek’s stomach turned at the story, and he had to swallow down the acid rising in his throat. He hated that he was forcing his friend to relive the memory. Mojo’s voice was low and flat, at some times hardly audible, and it was as though he was talking from somewhere far away. Arek was relieved that he didn’t see pictures that Mojo was seeing in his mind, yet, if sharing them would have helped him, he’d have done so.

“I couldn’t do anything. I was so close, and all I did was hiding behind a fucking tree.”

“There where four of them, you’d have gotten yourself killed and gained nothing.”

“I had my rifle, I should have-”

“The other three would have overwhelmed you after the first kill. Say what you want, I’m just glad you didn’t end the same way.” He reached for Mojo’s hand. Carefully, he shoved his fingers between Mojo’s, unclenching the tensed fist. Mojo turned his head, and Arek believed he saw him smile for a second. Good. Arek didn’t have much to give, and changing the past wasn’t in his power, but if a simple gesture comforted his friend, he’d hold his hand until morning.

“Thank you. Anyway. So I was there, hiding, trying not to break down and throw up, and waited until they left. I ran to the spot, I didn’t give a damn about the creatures living there, I put my arms into the mud up to my shoulders but… Spirits, I just hope he died of a heart attack before he drowned…” He took a deep breath, and continued, “Roras. He had to do something, he was the hero, right? I hurried back, straight to the headquarters and into his office. Covered in mud, clothes torn, and one wrong word away from vomiting on the floor. I told him what happened, that Redor was dead, murdered. I gave him the names and he listened.”

“What happened next?”

“Happened?” Mojo laughed. “He said, ‘what are you talking about, I’ve been with Officer Kentus and Teris all day.’ That’s what he said! And that it was ridiculous that any respectable citizen of Laudatas would deal with salarian scum.”

“He lied to you and mocked you?!” Arek had expected that Roras had to be involved into the story, otherwise Mojo’s hate towards him wouldn’t have made sense. It was only so difficult to believe.

“Yes, and in a way that I almost doubted myself. I trusted him, and he was so shaken with worry about my health, put an arm around my shoulder to comfort me, and offered to take me to a doctor, to see if a bug had bitten me during my stroll through the jungle. Asshole, that rotten asshole!” Mojo’s fingers tightened around Arek’s. “I was so close to believing that I dreamed the whole thing. Then he hugged me, and kissed me. And that was his mistake. If I knew anything about him, then that he’s not into guys at all. I pushed him away and ran out of his office, back home.”

“Wow.” So it was all a lie. The friendly gestures, the laughs, the generosity. The kindred soul Arek had thought to sense in Roras was nothing but a carefully crafted illusion, a disguise to lure them on his side and to distract them what was hidden behind the lies. Could a man’s act really be this convincing? He didn’t want the Roras that he had met - the man that adored his little godchild, who had welcomed them so openly - to be the same man who tried to made use of the crush a youth had on him to cover up a cold blooded murder.

“Wow, indeed. So I was home, and yelled for my mother. She and Redor were friends, she’d believe me, and wanted to do something, you’d think.” They continued their walk. Mojo’s eyes were glued to the ground, and his hand was cutting through the air in angry gestures while he spoke. The other was still holding Arek’s. “All she did was yelling at me, for being a liar, for shaming the family and destroying our reputation. Father came home when we were screaming at each other, and took her side. They said I was delusional, father said he had talked with Redor just moments ago, in person. But I didn’t budge. So I was grounded, locked up in my room, broke out, and went straight to the mayor. Finally, someone listened to me, and she assured me she’d look into the matter.

Long story short, the next day, Officer Roras suddenly was Captain Roras, head of the LSG. My parents were promoted, and I was told that I had caught a dangerous fever, and that I had the choice between curing it peacefully at home for the next month, or in a hospital in Shastinasio.”

“Translation, shut up or-”

“Be tragically killed in an accident on your way to the capital. Yeah, I might have been naive at that time, but I got that much.

A week later, I didn’t know why Redor was killed, and I didn’t care. I only wanted to get away. I broke out of my room, sneaked out of the city, and made my way to the capital myself, hiding in a transporter. I bought a flight on the next ship that’d leave the damn planet on the same day, not giving a fuck where it went. I disembarked on Omega. You can guess the rest.”

“Wow,” Arek repeated, his head buzzing. Mojo, the only witness of a man being murdered, and those he trusted most betrayed him. Silence bought with promotions, in other words, power. What a story. He admired Mojo, he’d have blown this place up the moment he was forced to set a foot back into the city. So that was how the roots for Mojo to grow into who he had become were planted, more than a decade ago. Many of his questions were answered, but some were still open.

“Who are your parents? Have you seen them?” As important, had Arek met them. He wanted to know what kind of people they were, but for now he gave Mojo’s role in the story priority.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re dead. Next question.”

 _Dead, or dead to you?_ He swallowed the question, trusting Mojo that he’d give him the names if they were still alive and meant danger to Arek, Amalthea and Meyrani. He thought of what to ask next. He doubted that he’d get his real name out of Mojo, and there was still something that he had wondered about since the time Mojo wanted to strangle him in the lounge.

“You’re face… you did that to yourself, right?”

“Yes, as it was my decision. The first thing I did on Omega was paying a Batarian doctor with my last money to remove the tattoo. I can tell you, acid stings. For the following four days I thought my face was falling off, and it took a year until I got the smell out of my nose. But I didn’t regret it. I didn’t want to be a part of a community that betrayed me like that. I didn’t give a damn how I’d look with the scars.” As this part of his story brought him away from his home, Mojo relaxed. The tight grip around Arek’s hand loosened and Arek sensed the weight falling off Mojo’s shoulders.

Despite the seriousness, Arek smiled.

“Adventurous, I’d say.” He stretched, his free hand reaching for Mojo’s face and moving around to his neck. Pulling him down, Arek kissed him. He sensed Mojo’s hesitation, and flinched when a careful hand lightly touched the wound on his arm.

“Arek…”

“Don’t worry about a few scratches. They don’t change anything, at least not from my side.” He took Mojo’s face into his hands. “I’m your friend, and I still want to kiss you, and fuck you. Is that a problem for you?”

“Not really,” Mojo chortled. Arek held his breath, a sudden happiness rushing through him when Mojo’s fingers ran through his hair.

“Not sure if the timing is much better, but if you want, we can find ourselves a cozy spot of grass and give it a second try.” He traced the scar where it was burnt into Mojo’s mandible and cheek. “Maybe’s just me, but sex helps me to clear my head when stressed.”

“Not sure either.” Mojo gave him another hesitant kiss. Arek bit the upper plate of Mojo’s mouth, teasing him with licking and teeth, until Mojo finally deepened the kiss with his tongue. Arek growled with satisfaction, wincing under the pleasant shiver. Strong arms held him and he welcomed their warmth around his bare back. This was so much more like the Mojo who had kissed him when they were still on the Hamburg. Tender dominance of the kiss, gentle fingers stroking over his skin, leaving tingles instead of bleeding scratches.

“Gods, if want to make me cum without bothering too much just keep kissing me like that,” Arek gasped when Mojo let go of him. He snuggled against Mojo, the arms still around his neck. Guilt was stinging his guts. Although it had been Arek’s suggestion, it wasn’t right that he was already too aroused to think clearly of what Mojo had just told him. His timing really was horrible.

“Good to know,” Mojo chuckled to Arek’s relief. “But it’s better when we leave now. You should go back to your room.”

“You can’t be serious, like I’d leave you alone now,” Arek protested. He stepped back, his arms slipping from Mojo. “It’s not about sex, we can do that another time. We can talk, or don’t talk, doesn’t matter. But don’t think that after telling me all this crap that happened to you I’d let you send me to my room. What’s so funny?” He frowned when Mojo chuckled, half-pleased that what he said had amused him for whatever reason, but that didn’t change his decision. He wouldn’t leave Mojo alone tonight.

“Hear me out before you complain.” Mojo’s talon tapped against Arek’s nose. “You go ahead, I’ll follow. I want to check your wound, making sure it’s clean. Also, I want to avoid the rain.”

“Rain? It rains on this forsaken hell of a planet?” Arek raised his head, looking into the sky. It was still clear. Yes, the air was more humid, but the breeze was as weak as before, and it was still warm. “How do you know?”

“I was born here, you know, I can smell it. And yes, there are downpours in spring. Hurry now, and keep your window open.”

 


	31. Midnight Rambler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, boring chapter.
> 
> And oh, there are a few lines of smut!
> 
> Consider yourself warned ♫♪

The wind had picked up its pace. The humidity was tangible when Arek was hurrying back to the hotel. He was covered in sweat when he had reached his room. The scratches and cuts were burning and itching, and he welcomed the stifled, but dry air in his room. A draft found its way inside through the tilted window, and the flapping curtain greeted Arek. With two long steps, he crossed the room and opened the window. Leaning over the sill, he didn’t saw a sign of Mojo, or anyone else. It was silent around him, the rooms next to him were either deserted, or their occupants already asleep. He assumed the former - when he had sneaked away from the party, Meyrani and Amalthea had been engaged in lively conversations with Roras and his friends.

His stomach tightened with unease. Mojo’s story in mind, he wanted to warn his friends. What exactly he should tell them he didn’t know, only that Roras wasn’t who he seemed. Or maybe he was all that he seemed, easy going, friendly, joyous, as long as thing were going his way. Arek still doubted that every word, every friendly gesture had only been an act. That only left his motivations and loyalties to question, and ugly answers to be expected.

“Dammit!” Without a warning, the wind hurled a veil of thick raindrops into his face. He moved away from the window. Rain splattered inside and on the floor. Arek switched on the light, picked his omni-tool up from the nightstand and wrote a quick message to Amalthea, and a second one to Meyrani. He warned both to keep their eyes open and to not give more details than necessary about their mission to anyone, he’d explain in the morning. He added an additional warning for Meyrani, telling her to not bother seeing him before morning.

“There, that should do. And now, what?” He cast another look at the window, but all he saw was darkness. What if Mojo just wanted to get rid of him, if he had never planned to follow him here? Should he wait a few minutes, an hour? And what was next? Trying to call him, sending a message, or going back to the academy? No, that was useless, when Mojo wanted to be alone he’d ignore calls and messages, and there were enough other roofs for him to hide. If he thought that Arek was going to search every single one of them in hope of a quick midnight fuck, then Mojo was mistaken! Arek slammed the omni-tool back onto the nightstand, grabbed some clean clothes and stomped into the bathroom.

The relaxing shower that should wash blood, sweat and heat from him lasted no longer than his patience. After less than two minutes he turned off the water and dried himself enough to comfortably slip into his pants. The shirt was thrown back into his bag. It was too warm, and his arm hurt. Shower and towel had opened the wound and it was bleeding again. He was searching his back for the first aid kit when he heard a noise behind him. He turned around, and broke into laughter.

“Got surprised by the rain? After you warned _me_ about it?”

Mojo snorted, and climbed down from the sill. His hood was pulled over his face and was clinging to his head - he was drenched from head to toe. Water was dripping from the end of his fringe, from his sleeves and his spurs. Rain was an understatement. A heavy torrent drummed on the roof and streets. The strong wind had changed into a storm that whipped the water against the walls and into Arek’s room.

“Can’t you leave it open? Or at least tilted?” Arek sighed when Mojo closed the window.

“Either you flood this dump with rain, or, when it stops, with insects. You don’t want Invictus’ equivalent to your spiders in your bed, trust me on that.”

“I’d rather have a turian from Invictus in my bed, trust _me_ on _that!_ ” Arek walked up to him and shoved his hands under Mojo’s shirt.

“Smooth, Turner.” He stopped Arek’s hands from pushing the shirt up, and Arek rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, too bad dry remarks don’t dry clothes. Get out of them with or without my help, but get out of them.”

Mojo snorted again, but let go of Arek’s hands. When no further protest came, Arek proceeded to pull the shirt over Mojo’s head and tossed it over the chair. The fascinating body in front of him, Arek couldn’t resist touching his chest. The skin was so rough beneath his fingertips, warm, and also, strangely smooth with the lack of any hair. He traced the familiar line of muscles, his fingers stopping where he would have found nipples on a human man’s chest. Nothing, a strangely empty sight. There were tiny, single scales here and there, and he wondered where else his touches would feel good. The porn he had watched had focused on the obvious and on the throat. If turian porn was as accurate as that of human’s, then he knew as good as nothing.

Mojo’s face nuzzled against Arek’s cheek and hair. It was still wet from the rain, but not cold.

“Show me your arm. Do you have your first aid kit?”

Arek sighed. Of course, that would have been too easy, but what was worse - Mojo was reasonable.

He handed him the first aid kit, and they both sat down on the bed. Mojo wiped the fresh blood away with a clean tissue, while Arek took a closer look at the mess for the first time. From his shoulder on, two deep, parallel cuts and a slightly curved one had opened his flesh, stopping only an inch away from his elbow. Arek bit down on his tongue when Mojo sighed. He took a small bottle from the first aid kit and sprayed its content over Arek’s arm. The sharp smell of antiseptics filled the room and the liquid seemed to burn through Arek’s muscle tissue right down to the bone, but he refused to flinch or squirm. After a moment of waiting, Mojo wiped the mix of blood and disinfectant away, and reached for the second bottle. He squeezed the flesh together to close the cuts, and generously sprayed over them. Arek felt how his skin tightened while the muscles pulled against the liquid band aid.

“Does it hurt much?” Mojo asked. He was still pressing the wound together while they waited for the spray to dry.

“Stings,” Arek admitted. “But fine otherwise. I think you can let go now.” He put his hand on Mojo’s and shoved it away from the cuts. The tissue tried to expand, but the spray held it together. Fully dried, the milky liquid turned into a thin, transparent film.

“Not sure if it’s enough. If they rip open again you should use medigel, or see a doctor for stitches.” Mojo pulled his hand away from Arek and stared at his talons. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I officially accept your apology. Can we drop this now?” Arek stuffed spray bottles and dirty tissue back into the box, closed it and threw it, together with his bag, to the floor. He rolled his shoulder back and forth to test the durability of now almost invisible bandage. As long as he didn’t overdo it he should be fine. He considered dressing his arm with a traditional bandage, and using the small ration of medigel Mojo suggested was of course an option. But why waste good material when not necessary, after all, a few cuts weren’t life threatening. Although he’d have to wrap something around his arm anyway tomorrow, if he wanted to avoid questions. Or he could put on a shirt with long sleeves - which would be even more suspicious. He’d make up his mind when it was time to meet with Roras tomorrow.

“I better go now. If it bleeds again or starts to feel hot, see a doc.” Mojo stood up and went to the chair for his shirt.

“Geez.” Arek jumped after him and grabbed his arm. “This is getting old. Do us all a favor and stop with this hard-to-get act.”

They both stood still. Mojo looked at the window, and back at Arek. His face was difficult to read, no motion to give his thoughts away, but Arek felt Mojo’s eyes linger on his bare chest for a moment. Holding back a grin, Arek let his hand glide over his own abdomen. He opened the button of his pants, and shoved them down, only a few inches that revealed the first curly, red hairs. Mojo took a hesitant step towards him, and Arek saw the tension in his shoulders. He watched Mojo’s face when a hand was placed on his chest, gliding over it. The roughness of Mojo’s fingers touching his nipples was enough to take away the last bit of attention from his hurting arm.

“It’s stupid to go out in this weather when you don’t have to,” he said after taking a deep breath. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Or we don’t have to go all the way. We can just get naked and see what happens.” His laugh was cut short by Mojo’s mouth on his. He was grabbed by his ass and pulled close against the tall, firm body. Mojo’s tongue slipped between his lips while he was shoved backwards. One hand still on his ass, the other on his back, he was lowered onto the bed. Lying on top of him, Mojo broke the kiss.

“Gonna make up for it,” he muttered, his thumb stroking over Arek’s cheek. His mandibles slowly moved when Arek smiled at him.

“Have fun.”

“That I will.” His hoarse, flanging voice vibrated in Arek’s ear. Arek closed his eyes. Leaning back into the pillow, he sighed while Mojo’s tongue moved along his ear. Warm breath tickled him, sending tingling shiver through his body. His pants were pulled down, freeing his erection from the pressure of his clothes.

Mojo kissed along his throat. One hand rested on Arek’s shoulder, pushing it down so Arek wouldn’t move his injured arm. Arek spread his legs when Mojo’s other hand was shoved between them. Arek inhaled the scent of sun and grass coming from Mojo, shivering when his inner thighs were caressed. He tensed when the hand moved up his legs and over his hips, when the rough mouth nibbed on his collar bone.

He anticipated pain that didn’t come. Neither talons nor teeth hurt his skin. Fingers played with the hair covering his crotch. He gasped when Mojo liked over his nipple - the harder it became, the more sensitive it was to the rough surface of Mojo’s tongue. A shudder muted Arek senses, and he hardly noticed how Mojo got rid of his own pants.

A hungry tongue searched for his, filling his mouth with his kiss. Mojo’s upper body was lying heavily on top of Arek, the protruding sternum pressing hard against Arek’s chest. Hands were running around Arek’s head and through his hair as he kissed him. Arek wrapped his arms around Mojo’s neck, one hand taking hold of the cowl. He flinched at the sting in his arm, he had forgotten about the cuts, and decided to ignore them.

“Careful.” Mojo didn’t break the kiss long enough for Arek to answer. Mojo took his hand and pushed Arek’s injured arm down. The gentle care didn’t surprise Arek anymore, only his reaction - the voice, the tender way their fingers intertwined warmed him as much as the closeness of the other man. The hard, moist cock that pressed against his leg felt cool on his skin.

He was panting, his face blushed, when Mojo went from his mouth to his ear, gently chewing his earlobe. A hand was back on his way down to Arek’s groin. Arek shifted his hip, his erection towards the hand, but he hoped in vain for the desired touch. Fingers stroke over his scrotum, over his hip and inner thighs.

“Is there a reason why you don’t touch my fucking dick?” Arek groaned, caught between need and frustration. Mojo sat up, his hand on Arek’s leg, and looked down at him with what Arek read as a smug, turian grin.

“’Course. I’m an asshole having fun.” He bent over Arek’s groin, and chuckled; slowly, he licked over the head of Arek’s cock.

“Gawds…!” Arek squirmed, his fingers clawed into the bed cover. Shuddering and hungry for more, he pushed up his hips, but Mojo had already moved away.

“You don’t want that in my mouth,” Mojo chuckled again. He fished the first aid kit from the floor, took a bottle with oil from it, and put the kit down again.

“No, but your tongue all over it.” Arek propped himself up on his arms, but Mojo was back over him, and pushed him down. Licks and teasing nibs over his throat distracted Arek from the hand between his legs and the finger pushing into him. He worried about the sharp talon, but lost the thought when Mojo kissed him. The first faint pain of being stretched open didn’t last long for him. He arched against Mojo’s body when a second finger loosened him further. His cock ached for a touch, and Arek squirmed when he was denied.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, his good arm clinging around Mojo’s neck, when Mojo withdrew his fingers from Arek’s ass, and his tongue from his mouth. Mojo nodded, and moved between Arek’s wide spread legs. He guided his cock, and leaned over Arek when he pushed into his hole.

Arek was lying still. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead and soon his body. He shivered, listening to Mojo’s heavy, controlled breathing, while he was slowly filled, inch by inch.

“Go deeper,” he whispered when Mojo stopped. He couldn’t be further than half in.

“No, I don’t…”

“I know you’ll know when it really hurts.” He put one leg around Mojo’s waist. The hard hipbone pressed into his lower leg and stopped it from slipping down. His sigh changed into a groan as Mojo pushed deeper. Arek closed his eyes, a hand on the back of Mojo’s head, Mojo’s mouth against his throat. Slowly, his ass was stretched around the widening part of the smooth cock. Arek’s chest was heaving against Mojo. Sweat was now dripping from his temples. The scent of the turian’s hot skin made him dizzy. His hips squirmed, begging for movement, but when he hissed at a sudden sting of pain, Mojo tensed, and stopped pushing.

Mojo didn’t move. Arek was trembling. He tried to speak, but the words died as a growl in the back of his throat. The sound of their breathing drowned the noise of the wind. Rain clattered against the window and on the roof, faint compared to the drumming of Arek’s heartbeat. Mojo seemed to fill his whole body, the fraction of an inch away from the pain of stretching him too much. But anything less would feel like a loss that Arek wouldn’t be able to bear. He forgot about his injury, he threw both arms around Mojo, clinging to him, his face pressed against Mojo’s. The trembling was becoming worse, and he tightened the hug, refusing to let go when Mojo tried to pry his bad arm away.

“Are you okay?” a worried voice found a way to his dazed mind.

“Don’t stop this, never,” he rambled, the words not even making sense to him. Mojo breathed something in return, too low and calm for Arek to hear. But when he was about to ask, Mojo began to move.

The pace never changed to anything else than slow. Arek was wincing and thrashing around under Mojo, too caught up in his need for more to cry out. His hands reached for Mojo, scratched over his sturdy skin, and dropped back onto the mattress. His cock was twitching, leaking in desperate need for attention. Mojo’s rhythm was steady and merciless, keeping him on the edge, one hard thrust or gentle touch away from relief.

Arek’s face burnt under the watchful eyes. He tried to open his, but his vision was blurred, making it impossible to read Mojo’s expression. He heard him breathe, he felt a shaking hand caress his face, while a too thick, too hard cock was driving him insane. Mojo was hitting all the right nerves, intentionally, or by accident, Arek didn’t care. He forced his eyes open, meeting Mojo’s tender stare. Mojo moved closer, his mandibles fluttering, and Arek parted his lips for the kiss.

The tongue was massive and heavy in his mouth, the rough mouth making his by now tender lips tingle. The pushes into his hole went deeper, and the tongue blocked his moan. He cried out, but was gagged by the kiss. His breathing became faster, his hips and legs were twitching. A hand closed around his cock, and after the second stroke, his body became limp, and his vision faded.

“Don’t,” he begged, or thought he did, when Mojo pulled out. Arms wrapped around him, tightened, and maybe he heard a deep, throaty growl, maybe not. Wetness streamed over his leg, and he was pulled into a tender embrace.

“Arek? Do you hear me?”

He shook his head, clinging to Mojo, desperate to save himself from falling into the growing void in and around him.

The trembling only slowly subsided. Mojo’s body was warm against his, adding to the warmth of the room. The air was stifling and filled with the scent of dust, sweat and sex. It was still raining outside, but the whispers weren’t coming from the wind.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he heard a gentle voice in his ear. There was heat, a heartbeat that wasn’t his, and hands holding him. He snuggled closer and sighed.

“Did I doze off?” Arek yawned. He was exhausted, in a pleasant, relaxed way.

“More like spaced out. Are you alright?”

“Really? Nice.” He smiled against Mojo’s chest, the stickiness between their bodies another reminder of what had happened.

“Nice.” Mojo snorted, his face nuzzling Arek’s hair. “You got me worried. Can I let go of you for a second?”

“Sure,” Arek laughed, but when Mojo’s arms unwrapped and he stood up, Arek shivered, despite the warmth in the room. He stared at the turian’s back, the cold growing with every step Mojo was taking away from the bed. His body was tired, his arm was hurting, the fine hair on his skin was standing up.

“You aren’t leaving now, are you?” he asked, as casual as he managed, and frowned when Mojo laughed.

“Climbing out of the window all naked wasn’t the plan.” He shoved the curtain aside and tilted the window. On his way back to the bed and switched off the light. Arek reached for his hand, and pulled Mojo back into bed. There were words whirling in his mind that he feared to think, but when the arms closed around him once more, all that was left was sleepiness. Like Mojo, he sighed.

Their legs intertwined under the thin bed sheet, the rain rushing outside, they were lying in silence until first Arek, then Mojo fell asleep.

 

X x x

 

“That’s enough. One more layer, and I won’t fit into my shirt.” Chuckling, Arek shoved the spray can away from his arm. It was early in the morning, about an hour after sunrise. He was sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but his pants, and grinned at the frowning Mojo standing in front of him.

“Then let me dress it.” Mojo put the spray aside and took the roll of dressing material from the first aid kit.

“Yeah, let’s use that, and the medi-gel, and raise the odds of an actually life-threatening wound that would require the good stuff from unlikely to 100% guaranteed. Nah, it’s good as it is.” Arek stood up, took the roll from Mojo and put it back into the box. He closed the lid and stuffed the kit into his bag.

“This should hold well enough once it’s dry.” Arek took a closer look at the cuts. The skin around them was slightly swollen, but not warm. “And unless I can convince you to undress and get back into bed with me, I doubt the coating will crack again.” He picked a blood-stained tissue up from the floor, folded it and stored it away in the first aid kit. He wasn’t sure when it happened, or how, but when he had woken up, the protective coat was damaged, and blood seeped through it. He was lucky he didn’t stain the bedsheets. Explaining how the injury happened was going to be a pain already without bleeding all over the place.

“The big boss lady’s gonna put me into stasis if you can’t walk for a week.” He stroke over Arek’s arm, below the wound. “Maybe she’ll do so anyway.”

“I’ll stop her.” Careful not to move his arm too much, Arek stretched and pulled Mojo into a kiss. After a moment, Mojo moved away from him and walked towards the window. So this was the end of their night together.

“You’re a damn good fuck, do you know that?” Arek said, just to say anything and to stop himself from sighing. It wasn’t the _don_ _’t go_ that he wanted to call after him, but maybe Mojo understood it as a _come back tonight._

“Yes. And tell them about my story what they need to know,” Mojo changed the topic. “If you can avoid it, don’t leave the town, and don’t stay alone with Roras, the captain of the security force, or both of them. Stay with the others, or in public places, or alone without anyone when in a room.”

“Yes, mom.” Arek faked a yawn. They had rehearsed the conversation at least a dozen times since they had woken up, or so it felt to him. Even without the warning, his desire to spend more time with Roras or Captain Cantura was non-existent. With Mojo’s story in mind, and the outside temperature rising, his thirst for an adventure had vanished. Well, maybe Mojo’s skills as a lover were also to blame, but either way, hanging out with Roras and even the jungle had lost their appeal. Once the meeting with Roras was over, he’d find himself something to eat, a cold drink, and a spot in the shade where he could wait for the night. Mojo hadn’t said anything, but Arek was optimistic that he could expect another late night visit.

There were things they should talk about, if they wanted or not. One of them - what was Mojo planning to do while they were staying in Laudatas when he was on his own.

“There’s something I want to check, but don’t worry, I’m not going on a killing spree to settle old bills. And yes, it was written all over your face.” Mojo laughed and glanced behind the curtain, then he opened the window. “Be careful.” With that, he climbed the window sill, reached above the frame, and pulled himself up to the roof.

“Be careful yourself.” Arek sighed when he was alone, and looked at the street below. Not a soul outside. The sight was the same as yesterday. It had stopped raining while they had still been asleep, and once the sun was up, the world around him was drying. Only the road beneath him was still dark, where the shadows cast by the buildings shielded it from the sun.

He sighed, and returned to his bed. He had chosen two shirts, a normal one, and the dark long sleeve from their trip to Invictus, now he had to make his decision. If he didn’t want to be boiled alive, he better came up with a good story quickly. Lying at Amalthea and Meyrani would be a waste of time, but what should he tell Roras? Or any other turian curious enough to ask? This was getting complicated, and it was all Roras’ fault, and the fault of Mojo’s family, and everyone else who betrayed him. It was their fault that Mojo had to stay hidden instead of walking with them, and that he was hurting to the point of losing control. The shock in Mojo’s eyes, and the worry in his voice pained Arek more than the damn scratches. They didn’t bother him, if anything, he was grateful they were there, a reminder of the arms that had held him and that made him feel lonely now they were gone.

He jumped up, and threw both shirts against the wall. He paced through the room, giving his bag a kick when he stumbled over it. His hands were beginning to glow, and he stopped himself from hurling a biotic blast across the room just in time. He sat down on the bed again, and buried his face in his hands.

 _I have to end this. Arek Turner, you know that this wouldn_ _’t work. It never does. End it as soon as you can! That’s what we both agreed on!_ But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t want to. Yet, it was the only right thing to do, and he hoped it could wait until they were back on the Hamburg.

 


	32. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had sex, and everyone starts the day with their own worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran out of my text reserve, how did that happen? Where are the last four weeks?! And to top things, I rewrote most of this chapter yesterday, so... yeah :D
> 
> Glad you enjoyed the last chapter, now have fun with this one :D

A knock pulled Arek out of his cloud of self-pity. He stood up, stretched, shaking off the worries and put on a wide smile.

 _Don_ _’t be an idiot. The night was great, and with all the drama it’s no wonder my mind’s muddled. Things will work out just fine._ With this resolve, his mood brightened. He opened the door, and his growling stomach greeted Meyrani before Arek could say something.

“Hungry after a hard night’s work?” She chuckled, and Arek waved her inside.

“Hope you had fun with our problem child while Thea and I and a horde of Laudatas’ snobs sought shelter from the rain.” She closed the door behind her, and threw herself on the chair with a groan.

“That bad?” Arek grinned despite his sympathy for her misery.

“Bad enough. Not that anyone was impolite. Smooth and slippery like a jelly. Spiked with needles. Sure, Invictus and Palaven have their conflicts, but you’d think a city that’s supposed to be our Hierarchy’s pet was less prejudiced. And I always thought Mojo was just being his regular asshole self. Care to tell me why he left you this glowing souvenir?” The growl in her voice wasn’t threatening, but promised to change any time, depending on Arek’s answer.

“Oh, well, _that._ ” Arek had been amused by her rant, and the sudden change of topic caught him by surprise. He had only be thinking of an excuse for Roras, or anyone else who wasn’t supposed to know about Mojo. As she asked, he found it difficult to answer.

“It was an accident.” The truth would have to be enough, without its personal details.

“I hope you aren’t trying to sell him to me as an angel, Arek. Yeah, he got a lot more agreeable lately, but he’s still a difficult jerk. If he’s violent when with you-”

“Stop it right there, Meyrani!” Unusually harsh, he spun around, dropping the clothes he was about to shove into his bag. “He fucked up for a moment, and felt like shit, which almost ruined my night with the most gentle man that ever fucked me. He’s sorry, and I’m sorry that humans don’t have thick hides, because I doubt that these scratches would have done more than tickling you. He’s a jerk, an idiot, but I can’t let you accuse him to be something he isn’t.” He took a deep breath. Meyrani stared at him with a blank expression, her mandibles dropped, eyes widened. Discomfort was growing in this moment of silent, and vanished when Arek’s stomach rumbled again. Both took the chance to chuckle with relief.

“Got it. Never thought I’d see the day you’d be so passionate about one of your lovers, let alone Mojo. Although it’s still a miracle that the two of you became lovers in the first place.” Her pose relaxed, and she looked at Arek with friendly curiosity.

“I’m sorry. I cheer for you two. But you’re my friend, and I just got worried for a moment.”

“I’m sorry I yelled." Good that this was over. The last thing he wanted now was arguing with Rani, although it was nice to have friends who worried about him. But he didn't need that, he had worries of his own, and keeping Rani away from Mojo's throat was not the kind of solution he had in mind. "And don’t make a big thing of this, okay? We’re just friends with benefits, and I’d like to keep it at that."

“Right. Thought of a way to explain your love tokens to our charming host?”

Arek hesitated. He had wasted most of the morning cursing the unwanted feelings that he had forgotten about who and what their host was behind his kind and generous facade. There was it again, that word. Why couldn’t something be what it seemed for a change?

“Our host, yes. Well, there are some things I have to tell you about Roras. But let’s call Thea first. This matters to all of us.” The sooner he spilled the beans the better. Shoving the responsibility for the situation to Amalthea would take one weight of his mind, and he could only hope that she had a good idea how to handle Roras from this point on.

“This doesn’t sound good. You got behind the big secret of Mojo’s past?”

“You could say so.”

“In that case, we better hurry. I’ll call her right away.”

*

It was difficult for Arek not to admire Meyrani. The tale he had to tell her and Amalthea hadn’t fazed her mood and appetite at all. She chewed on a fruit that looked like an apple and smelled like a ripe pear, enjoying what she tasted. Between the bites, she spoke of the night before, after Arek had left the party. She praised the food, the music, the generosity that the whole town showed towards them. She left out the snide remarks towards her, and avoided to mention Roras as much as possible.

Whenever she said his name, Amalthea clenched her fists. In her struggle to keep herself from frowning, she had dropped her knife more than once, and spilled her coffee.

Arek had welcomed the short time they had before they raised suspicion for showing up late for breakfast, or missing it completely. The ten minutes had been enough to outline Mojo’s history, starting with his stroll through the jungle and the witness of the murder. The other details, about Mojo’s life before these events, how he had lived, the future he had been looking forward to - he felt silly, but he didn’t want to share these private details about him with the others.

When he had talked about Rora’s role, how he had acted, Amalthea had been furious. They wasted a few good moments to calm her down. Relieved as he was that she believed him, as difficult it was to calm her down in her impulsive rage. Luckily, he could intercept the chair she lifted and was about to throw through the window.

It had been Meyrani’s reasoning that had saved the situation. The owner of the hotel were waiting, and as the three of them were the only guests at the present time, breakfast was prepared only for them.

Arek hurried to close the story, and after deciding that there wasn’t much they could do but playing along, they finally went downstairs.

 _I wonder how much Roras was personally involved._ Arek still had a hard time to believe that anybody could put up such a decisive act. Yet, here was Meyrani, bright as the day, as though nothing had ever disturbed her. Her past acts had almost convinced even him.

“Can I have that?” He pointed at the bread basked between him and Amalthea, and took the last of the small round pastries he had fallen in love with when she nodded. He was fascinated how the smell promised sweet cinnamon, while the taste reminded him of lemon and mint. Amazing as Asari food was, it didn’t distract him for long.

If Roras was corrupt it was bad enough, and they had every reason not to trust him. Yet, shielding a crime wasn’t committing a crime. If his kindness was an act, did everyone else around him acted along, from Captain Cantura and the turians he had met at the party? Could they be all in this? Even Cantura’s little daughter? That didn’t sound plausible to him.

“We’ll get as much as possible out of _him_ today,” Amalthea spoke for the first time since they had taken place at the table. “We’ll use this day to get all the supplies we need, and tomorrow, before the sun rises, we’re gone. You’ll tell Mojo he better finds a way to join us without being seen by anyone, got it? Last thing we need is stirring up trouble with the Hamburg being systems away.” She kept her voice low. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, was sitting on a table at the other end of the room, enjoying their tea while having a curious eye on their guests.

They were kind people who treated their guests with warm respect. They took joy and pride in their work, from keeping the rooms in order to the food they served. They were attentive without being intrusive, eager to make their stay pleasant. Also, they loved their city, the short chats had revealed that since they’d welcomed the three outsiders.

Arek couldn’t imagine them becoming violent, or even showing signs of hostility, but he hated the thought of hurting these nice people’s feelings, in fact, that worried him more than the risk of them informing Roras that something was wrong.

This was heart wrenching. The citizens of Laudatas were the nicest he had met in the galaxy. If he overlooked the heat, this place was beautiful. He didn’t know what they had to expect once they reached the capital. From what he had read, a second Omega, which, while possessing a crude charm of its own, didn’t compare to the peaceful beauty of this town. Well, if all was said and done, he preferred a city showing its colors over one that hid its rotten core between a pretty mask. Maybe that was what made it possible for Mojo to stay on Omega for several years, after leaving this fake paradise.

 _If he wasn_ _’t overreacting, as usual._ That idea forced itself into his mind not for the first time during the last few hours. He didn ’t want to doubt Mojo, and he didn’t think Mojo had hallucinated or made up what he had seen. The world was full with corrupt, cruel assholes, and to assume that Laudatas was free of them was beyond naive. But maybe he had misinterpreted Roras’ role into the whole mess. If there was only a chance to find the _why_ behind the murder, and if it was one single crime. Roras would have been wrong to try fooling Mojo, and to shield the killers, and the sudden promotion didn’t speak in his favor, but what had been his motive?

A clear answer, no matter what it revealed, would be the closure that Mojo needed, and if Arek had any idea how to ask Roras without risking their safety, he would.

“Time to go. Roras is awaiting us. Pray to the Goddess that all goes well!” Amalthea finished her coffee and pushed herself away from the table. Arek and Meyrani stood up as well. He felt better, it was easier to think with a full stomach. The forced break had also helped to calm Amalthea. She was calm and well able to conceal her scorn. Meyrani was the usual display of self-control, and suddenly it was Arek who feared he would blow their cover by losing his temper once he saw Roras. He wanted answers, Mojo deserved answers, and it was maddening that something that sounded so simple was the most difficult thing he was facing since their arrival.

*

Mojo had been waiting on the roof across the street for over an hour, keeping a close eye on the hotel’s entrance. He had pressed himself as flatly as possible to the floor, hoping that nobody would look up an discover him. He was still hungry. His quick breakfast had consisted of fruits he had stolen and hidden the day before, and the smell of rich breakfast coming from several windows made his stomach rumble.

Food was the only reason why he had left the hotel’s proximity for a short while, there was no other reason to waste time in his hideout. The garden was too popular with teachers and students for him during the day. With the first rays of the sun, the protective roof closed over it to shield it from the heat and to preserve the humidity. With only the door as an exit, the risk to be caught was too high.

Fortunately, he had discovered that a former garage and hardware store he had known from his youth had been closed. The building was now used as a public library, but the tool and material sheds on top of the roof were still there, forgotten as soon as they weren’t needed anymore. The lock had been easy to pick, and while dusty, he had found the ideal place to store food and to sleep in.

Well, maybe to sleep in. His thoughts returned to the last night as soon as Arek and the others left the hotel. Even from his spot he could see Arek’s arm, the three red markings accusing him for losing his control and hurting the man he had fallen for. How this could happen was a mystery to him, and so was the answer to the question what he should do about that. When Arek was trembling in his arms last night, clinging to him as though his life depended on it, Mojo had hoped for a moment… Hoping was foolish in a world that was made of shattered hopes and dreams. The choices were simple. Either he ended what had begun to grow between them since he had pulled Arek into Hackett’s office, or he didn’t. He’d have to share Arek, would have to hear him talk about his other lovers, but once in a while, he’d have him for himself, for a few hours. Better than nothing or worse than hell, he’d have to see.

He watched while the trio entered one of the few cabs in Laudatas. Once they were out of sight, he left. He wouldn’t meet any of the others before nightfall, and there was enough to do to keep him occupied until then.

 _Didn_ _’t think I’d ever set another foot in this place._ He left one building to climb the next. The back alleys were safer, with more corners and shadows to hide. Most people should be on their way to work, making use of the cooler morning temperatures, so the chances that he wouldn’t run into anyone were good. The way would lead him around the city. Crossing the city plaza would be faster, but the risk to be spotted was higher. He had a whole day, the long but safe way was the reasonable choice. Before he finished debating with himself, he pressed himself against the wall of a flower shop.

The plaza was lying in front of him. Only few were sitting on the edge of the pool. Four men in janitor uniforms cleaned the area from branches and leaves that last night’s storm had scattered all over the place. A group of children was strolling across the plaza on their way to school, laughing and nudging each other as they walked past the pool. He only knew one of them, the girl that had stormed into the LSG headquarter yesterday, and left a while later together with Roras. Mojo had found her name when he hacked into the network of the LSG. Yuda Cantura.

21 years ago, Roras had been in his thirties, and Mojo had been ten years old, and looked up at him with the same admiring eyes.

 _Fuck this._ He turned around and disappeared in the shadows. It was time he got some work done.

While they had prepared to leave the Hamburg, his initial impulse had been to shoot everyone who had wronged him and covered up the murder of Redor Taratus. But what would he achieve - nothing. Roras would be replaced by the next corrupt asshole in line, and if he wanted to weed out the LSG he might as well kill every single officer. And thus, turning mates to widows and widowers and rob children of a parent. He would need months to find out who was involved with the shady side of Laudatas, who wasn’t, and who was looking away to protect themselves and their cozy lives from the truth.

His way led him past houses and trees, through alleys and around corners. The last time he had been running through this area of the city he had been a child, playing with the few friends he had. He halted in front of a house. It was one of the earlier buildings, from the early years of the settlement, when the containers had become too small and uncomfortable. Many homes in this district were old, from the times his grandparents joined the colony, but they had always been well cared for when he was young.

Today, the paint was peeling off. The green of the blinds had faded, the wood was cracked and brittle. The glass pane was dirty and dull.

He put a foot on the window sill. Once he stood firmly, he reached for the edge of the roof and pulled himself up. With a sigh, he sat down at the edge of the small pool. Rainwater had filled it over night. Small branches, leaves, and what looked like a dead bird were swimming in the muddy, green sludge. Fifteen years ago, he and his best friends had hidden here from their young adult responsibilities. The sun had burnt down on them, clear water cooled their feet, cheap wine their throats. Five young turians, laughing, loving life without a care in the world or for what the future that awaited them. Headaches, dizziness, holding hands.

What would have become of him if he hadn’t seen what he wasn’t supposed to see, and how many more bodies were rotting in the mires, or were walled in, in the tunnel?

He blinked the memories away, and activated his omni-tool, reading through the protocols and files he had retrieved this morning.

Two or three days weren’t enough to find and destroy the foul core of Laudatas, he alone wasn’t enough. But there were others, with more time and power. A thirteen years old story told by an outcast wouldn’t convince anyone, what he needed was proof, and he would use the time he had to find anything that was worth a report to Palaven authorities. The Hierarchy with their strong code of honor wouldn’t be delighted to hear that they’d been deceived for decades, if not centuries, by Laudatas’ government.

For today, he planned to take a closer look at the tunnel.

The tunnel was a construction that connected Laudatas with the capital. Offering an underground route, using it saved half a day. It was also safer than taking the usual way around the jungle and miles through the desert. Laudatas was self-sustaining in most regards, and citizens rarely desired to leave the safety of the walls around them. Once in a while, access was requested to visit family members in need, otherwise, the tunnel was used for trading goods.

He should have been suspicious of the tunnel’s purpose sooner. Why bothering with building and maintaining such a construction for an occasional visit or delivery. Why erecting a fence around the area, and putting guards in front of it, if it all was so harmless. If he liked it or not, there had been a time when he had chosen to be as blind as most of Laudatas’ citizens.

The day he had sneaked on board of a transport vehicle to escape the prison that used to be his home was the day he had learned that other goods were traded using the tunnel than the usual fabrics, food supplies or luxury items. He remembered how he had peaked out of the crate ha had been hiding in when the car had stopped. To his surprise, it was still dark, except for the headlights of two vehicles. The air had been stifled and stale, and the cold moisture crept between the cracks of the crate, telling him he was still underground. There were footsteps walking around the car, and he hear voices coming closer.

For a moment, he thought he was dead. They had found him, and would dispose of him.

But another crate was pulled out and opened. He hard laughter, and words he couldn’t understand from where he was crouching into the corner of his hideout.

There was only one fragment he heard:”…behind the walls for good, and…” Then the door of the transporter was closed, and the tour continued, while his mind whispered to him that he had just witnessed his second murder.

He could sneer at Omega all he wanted, the years living there had allowed him to learn more than he could have here, most importantly, more direct, illegal approaches to gain the information he wanted. Still, from afar, it had been difficult to learn much about his hometown. Invictus was like Omega in many aspects, with the most important rule - what happens on Invictus stays on Invictus. Roras was one of the very few trusted contacts to the outside world, and of course he’d carefully select the information he was giving away.

If it hadn’t been for his friend Ibrahim and his genius he’d have nothing in his hands today. Thanks to Ibrahim and his investigative skills, Mojo knew names that left the capital but never arrived in Laudatas, and vice versa. People disappeared along invisible trails of Red Sand and information.

Now all needed was solid prove. Lists, files, or bones. Anything that would connect crimes with Roras. Searching the networks of the LSG and the administrative offices hadn’t brought up anything, but that wasn’t a surprise. If he wanted to find what he needed, he better searched behind the high voltage fence.

Spying in the broad daylight was risky, the chances that his investigations would fail were higher than he liked it, but he had no choice. He had wasted last night. Instead of getting to work, he had been too overwhelmed by the sight of his old home and the many faces from his past. Older, but still the same. What had happened years ago had shattered his world, but for the world, it had been just another day. He had hoped to shake off the grief alone, in one of his favorite spots from his past, and then Arek had shown up.

Mojo smiled at the memory. He still needed time to forgive himself his loss of control that had hurt Arek, but what came after that… When they had fallen asleep, his mind had forgotten about scorn and grief, and while the sights and memories filled him with melancholy, they hurt less. He’d do what he could given the short time he had, and once they left, it was time to close this chapter for good. Maybe, the night hadn’t been wasted after all, which was oddly calming. He was looking forward to find out what kind of comfort the night ahead would offer, but now, he had to get going. The more he achieved now, the more time he had this evening for other things. Hopefully, Arek would remember to keep the window open.

A map of the tunnel’s layout and the restricted area around it was among the files he had found when hacking the security network. He had had to dig deeper and pass some tricky security protocols, but now he knew the position of cameras and the schedule and positions of the guards.

Bypassing them was easy. What had once seemed impossible to pass to his younger self was a matter of minutes for him now. First, he sent a message to the closest guard, informing them of the emergency meeting, immediate attendance required. Signed with the captain’s signature, he had bought himself some time. The message would delete itself in twenty minutes, around the time they arrived at the headquarter. Next, he fed the camera closest to the wall with a loop of the last hour. Unseen by anyone, he climbed one of the poles and slipped behind the fence.

The area was his. Now all he had to do was to follow his instinct. He checked the map for the position of the guards’ booth. That would be his first destination. After that, a dozen containers were waiting for him, and he would be damned if he didn’t search any nook or creak he came across.

Almost an hour later he was as wise as before.

Nothing on the guardmen’s computer hinted at anything illegal. The documents were in order and matched what he had found in the other networks. He tried to dig deeper, but found nothing of worth. A few games had been installed on the local network, some private emails with friends and family members, that was all. No hidden codes or secrets.

Most of the containers were empty, few were filled with scrapped metal and discarded machines or furniture.

Now there was only one place left, if he found a way inside without triggering the alarm system.

The sun was moving closer to its peak when he leaned against the massive door of the tunnel. His thick skin protected him from sun burns, but it was getting hot under his hood, and all this fruitless searching and snooping had made him thirsty. He shoved the hoodie back, and took a water bottle from the small backpack he was carrying. Half of it he drank, the other half he poured over his face.

His eyes close he held his head up for the sun to dry the water. It was too late when he heard the footsteps.

“Well, look who we have here.” Three turians were standing in front of him, aged ghosts from his past. They had appeared out of nowhere, like the bad memories that they were.

Fuck, so he had been discovered, by _them_ of all people. He didn’t want to deal with them, and more importantly, he had to warn the others as quickly as possible that his cover was blown. He pulled the hoodie back over his face and turned around to run away, but the tallest blocked his way.

Green eyes met brown ones as they glared down at him. The other two, a man and a woman, where watching, nudging each other. Neither of them was wearing a weapon, but that didn’t mean they were here for a friendly chat.

“Out of my way, Re-”

A fist flew into Mojo’s face.

The force knocked him back, and, stumbling over his feet, he went to the ground. He flinched when he touched his nose. Blue blood dripped over his fingers. He wiped it away with his arm.

“Spirits, more than ten years later, and he’s still the same babyface,” the second man sighed.

“Yeah,” the woman chuckled. “Did he think the scars make him more manly?”

“Shut up! Is that a way to welcome an old friend?” The one who had punched him laughed, and offered Mojo a hand. He slapped it away and stood up without help. His nose was hurting, but nothing was broken, and the bleeding had already stopped.

“Time for a chat between old pals.” The tall one cracked his knuckles. "Why don’t you tell us how you’re doing, Zen?”

 


	33. Tunnel Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, punching people is a valid solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost killed my keyboard yesterday. Again. Don't drink and type, folks!
> 
> But all is good, and hey, it's Friday! Good to see you guys again!

Rezes Pharis used to be his friend. He lived in the house next door, they went to school together, they grew up together. Now he was in his early thirties, too, and the boyish shapes of his face plates had sharpened, the color darkened over the years.

Mojo took the offered hand, and was pulled up by the hostile stranger.

“Doing well, thanks for your concern,” Mojo snarled. He was back on his feet, and the next punch aimed for his face, cheered on by the two others who once where the most important people in his life.

Mojo stepped aside, avoiding the fist. Using the momentum of the motion, he swung around, launched at Rezes’ waist. Speed and the sudden impact were strong enough to make Rezes stagger backwards, but he didn’t lose his balance. Mojo kicked against his right spur, bending it to the point of almost breaking.

“Fuck you!” Rezes cried out in pain. A punch right below the end of his sternum knocked the air out of his lungs, and a kick from the side against his knee finally sent him down.

“Rez!” The shock in the second guy’s face lasted only seconds. With grim determination he stormed towards Mojo.

Mojo jumped out of his way. His attacker tried to stop his rush, coming to a staggering halt. Mojo used the chance and catapulted himself towards him from the side, landing a well-aimed punch under the guy’s chin.

He went to the ground, holding his face and groaning.

“Asshole,” he hissed, spitting through his teeth. “Wish you died out there.”

That hurt. Mojo looked down at him, the memories of his past life stopping him from running away.

Sadores Kerrus, the third one in their quartet, who once had been the most important one to him.

Rezes had recovered from the attack and was back on his feet. The tackle caught Mojo by surprise and threw him to the ground. He turned his head aside, dodging a punch. Rezes’ fist hit the ground. Bones cracked, but his howl was of anger instead of pain. He aimed with his other hand, but Mojo caught it by the wrist, pushing it away from his face. His hand shot up, grabbing Rezes’ mandible and pulling down.

Rezes winced, trying to grab Mojo’s wrist with his hurt hand. Mojo used the moment of distraction to twist his hips. He didn’t manage to throw the heavier turian off, but created enough space for his knee to hit Rezes in the groin. With a groan, Rezes rolled off of him.

Mojo hurried to stand up, ready to leave old memories and new enemies behind him.

“Stop!” a voice yelled behind him, and he heard the click of a heavy pistol readied to fire.

Halting on the spot, Mojo turned around. Lyret Gendor. She had loved to tease him because they were of the same height and stature even when they were teenagers, which made her tall for a turian woman, and himself, well, almost average. She had grown even more since the last time he had seen her, now being half a head taller than him. With her wide shoulders, the strong stance, he wondered if she had become the scientist she always wanted to be, or if she had joined the LSG after all, as his mother had once suggested.

Her mandibles flickered as she pointed a shaking gun at him, and he saw the same anger in her eyes as in Rezes’, but she lacked the Sadores’ hate.

Raising his hands, he walked towards her.

“Don’t try any tricks on me, Zen. I could beat you up when we were kids, and I can still do it now. If I don’t shoot you first!” Her voice lacked the determination of her posture, and he caught the hint of regret. Whatever brought them here, and whatever their order was, she didn’t want to kill him. Rezes and Sadores hadn’t pulled their weapons, neither when they confronted him nor now. Maybe there was a small chance…

He took another step closer, and she fired.

The shot went past his head, and wasn’t even close to put his life in danger.

Mojo darted forwards before she could ready another shot. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it around. She refused to drop the weapon. Her free hand grabbed his face, her talons aiming for his eyes, leaving a stinging scratch below his left eye.

He stomped on her foot, but she ignored the pain and rammed her forehead against his. Being blinded for a second, he tumbled backwards. Through a blur of flashes, he saw her charge at him.

He ducked in time, stretching out one of his legs. She fell over it, crashing to the ground. Rolling on her back, Lyret jerked up her pistol. Mojo kicked it out of her hand, aiming a second kick at her stomach.

“NO! ZEN, STOP!” The short moment between Mojo and Lyret had been enough for Rezes to bit down the pain in his hand and lower body. He threw himself in front of Lyret, hissing when Mojo’s foot hit him.

“Rez, you idiot! Are you okay?” Lyret put a hand on Rezes’ shoulder when he set up. To Mojo’s surprise, Rezes smiled.

“She’s pregnant, you know.”

“What…?” Mojo stared at both of them, taking a step back. Rezes and Lyret? They had been like sister and brother. He saw the looks the two exchanged. There was no doubt.

“I… congrats! I mean, damn, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, and…” Life hadn’t stopped because he had left. Two of his best friends, in love, becoming parents. He’d trade his viper if he could only tell them that he was happy for them, but maybe that wasn’t necessary as Lyret grinned at him.

“Shut up, babyface.” She chuckled, helping Rezes up as soon as she was back on her feet. “Where the hell did _you_ learn to fight like that?”

“Good question. You’re throwing quite a punch.” Rezes rubbed his stomach, and was still shaky on his knees. The hostility was fading. They were looking at each other for a moment, and the feeling of an old friendship was flashing through the awkward silence.

“Sorry to interrupt, but just to make one thing clear.” Sadores joined them, his voice still dark with loathe towards Mojo, the glare he shot at him was burning with disgust. “If this is going to be some kind of happy reunion, count me out!”

“For the Spirits’ sake, Sadores, isn’t a good, honest brawl enough to get rid of old grudges? It’s been more than a decade.” Lyret pushed Rezes out of her way, and threw herself around the neck of a stunned Mojo.

“So glad to see you again, Zen.” She pulled him into a tight, hearty hug. “There were times we thought you were dead.”

“She’s right. Wish I could have landed a punch, but it’s good to see you again and in one piece.” Rezes laughed, putting an arm around Mojo’s waist. “And I’m really dying to know where our pretty boy learned to fight like a machine.”

“Well, I… Omega, I think, and the army.” That was difficult to process, Mojo didn’t understand what was happening. He had already made peace with the thought that his childhood friends were going to kill him. Or that he’d have to kill them, if he didn’t find a way to outrun them. They had every right to see him as an enemy, an intruder who infiltrated their peaceful town and lives. After all, they once refused to listen to him when he had reached out for their help.

He looked at Sadores and was seeing nothing but bitter contempt. Mojo feared that the old feelings would flare up, but they didn’t. It was another man who made his heart ache when he thought of him now. Mojo had moved on, but there would always be the regret of leaving his first love behind without a word of parting.

“Sadores, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t waste your breath. Enjoy your little party, _pretty boy._ _”_ He spat out the last two words that he and his friends once used to lovingly tease him. His once dark gentle eyes were hard with scorn, and turned around.

“Hey, wait,” Rezes called after him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, not reporting anything until you guys are back. _I_ _’m_ not the disloyal asshole here.”

 

*

 

The three turian were resting on the ground, their backs leaning against a crate. They squinted against the sun that warmed their scales and the stone beneath them. Mojo took another sip from his water bottle, and passed it to Rezes.

“Can’t believe you joined Armiger Legion. And that they took you,” Lyret teased him, taking the water bottle from her husband. “But it explains a lot.”

“Trust me, they couldn’t wait to get rid of me, which is why I ended up with the Alliance.” Mojo stretched, crossing the arms behind his head. The heat of the sun, the warm air that smelled of sand and dust, he had missed that. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to sit outside under a blue sky, chatting with good friends as though they lived without a single care in the world. Or rather, he had chosen to forget, and his life had offered enough opportunity to distract him from past moments of happiness.

“Although I think I learned most about fighting on Omega.”

“I bet you have endless stories to tell, and I want to hear all of them.” Rezes laughed, pulling a full water bottle from his backpack after Lyret returned Mojo’s empty one to him. Then he turned serious.

“Zen, why don’t you just come home? Nobody was happy with you going away. Roras has always had a soft spot for you and your family, I’m sure if you talk to him…”

“No. Not after what I saw and after what happened when I told everyone. Roras, my own parents, they all treated me like dirt, to cover up the murder of a friend, if I may remind you.” He sighed, reliving the memories again. How often had he done so since their arrival? Half a dozen times? It was painful, after locking them away for so many years, but not as painful as the first time. He was becoming calmer about it, and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he was finally coming to term with his past.

“And you guys treated me like shit, too,” he finally said, more tired than disappointed and bitter. Lyret had been right, a good brawl helped overcoming old grudges. He wouldn’t be devastated to leave them behind again soon, but he would look back at this moment with a smile, and remember their old friendship fondly while wishing them the best for their future.

“Not because we wanted to! Sorry, I know that’s a lame defense.” Rezes shrugged, his sigh heavy with regret. “Saying that our parents had a stern talk with us after Roras visited them that night is an understatement. We were scared shitless, Zen. We really believed that you were part of a conspiracy that endangered the safety of everyone. At least for a while.”

“Roras can be convincing,” Lyret added. “I feared talking with you would put my family’s lives at risk, as much as I hated the thought. And what he told Sadores… well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“My first boyfriend was the only one who looked disappointed to see me alive half an hour ago, so yeah, I think it matters.”

“If you insist. Sadores believes until today that you cheated on him, that you were the lover of one of Redor’s murderers. And that the guy helped you to escape. We tried to talk him out of this idea, but never stopped doubting you. I’m sorry.” Lyret leaned over Rezes, reaching for Mojo’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck.” That explained the scorn and disgust of his ex towards. Also, it hurt that Sadores of all people so willingly swallowed the lies, and still took them serious.

“What about you guys?” he asked when another thought came to his mind as he thought about Lyret’s words. “Sounds like you came around and finally believed my side of the story. And you still live here as if nothing ever happened? And came chasing after me today as if I was a criminal?”

Uncomfortable silence was hanging between them when neither of his friends answered. A whisper in his mind warned him to trust them, that it was dangerous to sit here with them, having a chat about the fucked up past, while Sadores, who was so open with his contempt, had enough time to mobilize the whole LSG. Who knew who was waiting for him when he left the area later and returned to the fence.

“We were told that something suspicious was going on here,” Rezes finally explained. “And that we should look around, just to be sure. You cannot imagine how shocked I was to see you here. And the rest, well…”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Lyret came to his help. “The week after your disappearance, Roras invited the three us of to his office. He told us his version of what had happened. The story about you and your lover, and that you’ve been there when Redor got killed. He said, things like that happened, and that keeping the peace in a beautiful city like Laudatas sometimes demanded its tribute. He asked if we understood, and if we liked our lives, our home, and if we had plans for the future. And… well. Some things didn’t make sense, and we figured out that he didn’t tell us the whole truth. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were babies. But we also got what he tried to tell us. Zen, I’m so sorry,” she closed.

“It’s okay. I understand,” Mojo heard himself say. He failed to be angry at them, and for all what he knew, she had confirmed what he had come to assume over the years. Peace had its price, so had power, and sometimes, those who were evil and rotten to the core were the only ones with the power to uphold peace, and to create a sense of safety for the powerless. He had learned that on Omega within the first few days.

What could his friends have done? They had been young, too, with no influence, no power, no army behind them, but with loved ones to protect. Like everybody else, they had chosen to take the bait and swallow the hook, being well aware they were keeping their eyes closed. They grew up, married, and now they were about to have a family of their own.

They had sacrificed him for their happiness, but it had been an easy choice, given that there had been nothing they could have done to help him. That they had attacked him when they saw him again - maybe an impulse born from frustration, old guilt and regretting the way they disappeared from each others’ lives.

But there was one last question nagging in his mind.

“Guess I’m lucky you guys showed up, and not somebody else. Still, strange that they’d sent two office clerks and a pregnant teacher. No offense. Who gave you the order?” He wanted to believe in a coincidence.

The couple exchanged a look, and nodded.

“It was your mother. She called us, gave us guns, and told us that we’re perfect for this job.”

*

The meeting with Roras didn’t start, as anticipated, with a catastrophe. Arek feared he couldn’t keep up his poker face, in fact, many gambling debts he had made in the past confirmed that his poker face was non-existent. Amalthea was in control of her tempers most of the time - if she had the chance to adjust to the situation. The revelations were fresh, time to get used to the thought short. She wouldn’t have a problem with negotiating with the enemy if she had to, but acting was unnatural to her. Controlling her temper and pretending to be a good, trusting friend wasn’t a plan after her heart.

They couldn’t put the responsibility on Meyrani alone. She wasn’t the leader, and she had left the talking mostly to Amalthea since their arrival. If she took over now it would be suspicious.

If a snide remark escaped Amalthea it would be suspicious.

If Arek acted evasive and hardly talked it would be suspicious.

He regretted that he didn’t think of tagging along with Mojo today, he could have excused himself as sick, suffering from a heatstroke.

In the end, Arek rescued the situation by attending.

Roras welcomed them with a delighted smile, coming around his desk when they entered his office to greet them with a handshake.

His eyes fell on the three cuts on Arek’s arm. The short sleeve didn’t cover half of them, and the red color glowed in contrast to the white shirt and Arek’s pale skin.

“How… what happened to you?” For once, the suave mayor was too confused to maintain his cheerful smile. Arek couldn’t guess what kind of explanations were shooting through his head, and hoped meeting a former citizen who was a persona non grata in the middle of the night wasn’t one of them.

“Was that passion or do I have to worry about a crime?” Roras regained his cheerful composure, his eyes twinkling as he spoke.

“Well, if passion is a crime…” Arek picked up Roras’ words, and when Meyrani chuckled, he finally had an idea.

“Remember how we talked about stargazing? Your advice turned out to be a hit with a certain lady.” Arek didn’t have to fake his smile when he put his arm around Meyrani’s waist. She inhaled sharply, tensing for a second. But before Arek could worry that she would play along, she relaxed, and, giggling, put her hand on his neck, her fingertips playing with his hair.

“Arek, please! What’s the mayor supposed to think of me?” she whistled. A talon drilled into his skin, and Arek was sure that wasn’t an accident. Amalthea snorted, and the frown on Roras’ face eased away.

“Ah yes, the passion of youth. Turian ladies are something else, right?” He laughed, slapping Arek’s shoulder when he nodded. “Glad I could be of assistance. But tell me if you need to see a doctor. Anyway, shall we begin?”

They agreed, and everyone sat down. The intermezzo had cleared the grim atmosphere before Roras could grasp that something had changed overnight. Arek and Meyrani exchanged sweet, knowing glances now and then, which served two purposes - Roras believing their lie, and amusing Amalthea.

The meeting itself wasn’t exciting. Roras suggested they should visit Shastinasio, the capital, next, and for the best of an hour, he showed them maps and explained them which corners to avoid at all costs, and which spots were worth a visit, if they could spare time during their investigations. He named bars, clubs, warehouse fighting pits and other places that were popular among those who preferred illegal distractions.

“I’m sorry that I cannot help you with names. Lei and I tried to track some of them down since yesterday, but without notable results. But if there are any contacts that might help you further, then you’ll meet them in places like this.” He pointed at the screen, at one of the nightclubs he had mentioned before.

“I understand. Thank you, you’ve already been a big help.” Amalthea checked the updates on her omni-tool, a good excuse to avoid meeting Roras’ eyes. She was most civil and polite, also her words lacked some of the warmth from the day before. Arek hoped that Roras would assume that this was her professional side, and that the investigations ahead were her priority. A hard chunk of work was lying ahead of them, and while maps were better than nothing, Arek had some suspicions of his own.

For him, it was a fact that Roras was lying. In a best case scenario, he was only withholding information, worst case - he had used the list of names he had given them to warn their targets, and Arek and his team were about to rush headlong into a trap.

Amalthea asked for more details about the capital, and Roras answered patiently, joking when appropriate, but earnest in his warnings. Outsiders were welcome in Shastinasio as long as they brought money and didn’t disturb the order with nosy questions. Strangers snooping around weren’t treated with kindness, and if anyone figured out they belonged to the Alliance and were on an investigative mission, it could them cost their lives before they pulled their weapons.

Arek listened to Roras’ deep, rolling voice, and dared to watch his face for a moment. Damn, this guy was good at faking concern. Or maybe it was real after all? He wasn’t sure what to make of him anymore. First, he had thought he had found a kindred spirit in the tall turian. Then he had hated him, for the role he had played in Mojo’s past, and for fooling them from the first second they met.

 _You two are so much alike._ That had been Mojo’s words, and Arek found it more and more difficult to refuse understanding them. It was the truth. Under different circumstances somebody like Roras would have become Arek’s best buddy in no time. They both loved being around people, they liked attention, to smile, to laugh. They liked to love and to be loved. Arek had been called the heart of a party often enough to fully believe it without a hint of being conceited, and Roras wasn’t much different.

There was no arrogance, no vanity, only a guy who liked to have fun and loved it if his presence brightened the day of those around him.

Only that Roras was a lie, and Arek wasn’t, and it was Roras’ fault that it had taken Mojo so long to shake off his initial hatred and distrust towards Arek.

But now that he was sitting here, listening to his warm voice, seeing the worry in his face, it was so difficult to hate him.

Not that he doubted Mojo’s side of the story, and Roras behavior towards him had been despicable.

Yet, what if things hadn’t been as they seemed? That was a lesson life insisted to teach him lately, and Mojo did have a habit of overreacting. What if the whole mess was a big misunderstanding? Yes, there was no excuse for Roras covering up a murder and threatening the only witness. But had he been the mind behind the crime?

Laudatas was such a beautiful, peaceful place, and the high walls around it were its cage. A wealthy town on a suspicious planet, living a peaceful life, of course there had to be something shady going on behind the scenes. What if Roras was the caring guy after all, who loved life and people, who loved them so much that he’d do everything to protect them?

He would still have been an asshole towards Mojo, but if he had good reasons it would be different.

Would it be though? For whom? For Mojo, or for him, because a part of him wanted to like Roras, and refused to see him in the same absolute and ugly light like Mojo did?

 _Fuck all this. Can_ _’t we just leave this place already and never think of it again?_ Arek’s head was hurting. All he wanted was doing a good job, having a good time with fun company, or alone with Mojo. Dissecting moral dilemmas wasn’t his idea of fun, and whatever the problem with Laudatas was, he didn’t want to be the one responsible for solving it.

“What’s the fasted way to Shastinasio?” Amalthea asked. Finally a question Arek wished to be answered, too.

“I see you’ve marked a route on the map, but it will take us half a day. Isn’t there a shortcut?”

“I’m afraid not.” Roras shook his head and opened another map on his screen for them all to see. A red line was leading from Laudatas around the jungle, and took a sudden detour through the desert before it returned to the edge of the jungle. “There is no safe passage through the jungle.” He pointed at the desert area. “Thresher maws breed here, you want to avoid driving through that area. I don’t want to lie to you, there is a shorter way.”

He tapped at Laudatas’ icon and zoomed in, shoving the Northern part of the town into focus.

“A tunnel connects us with Shastinasio. It goes underground, saving hours. However, I strongly advice against taking that route. It’s rarely in use and poorly maintained. We use it for trading and emergencies, maybe once every other month. It requires paperwork, and both ends are guarded. We’d have to announce your arrival, pass on your files, pictures included. We’d have to come up with an urgent reason to explain why you had to travel to Shastinasio asap.”

“In short,” Meyrani continued his line of thought, “infiltrating the capital unnoticed would be impossible.”

“Exactly. Of course, if you insist to save a few hours, we’ll arrange something. Still, I don’t recommend it.”

“I think you’re right.” Amalthea folded her hands under her chin, staring at the screen with a thoughtful frown. “I hate losing more time, but seeking for information when our faces are known hours before our arrival is impossible.”

 _A tunnel, huh?_ Strange that nobody had mentioned it before. Another area that was off-limits, and arousing Arek’s curiosity all the more. He’d ask Mojo about it tonight.

“I guess leaving within the next one or two hours isn’t reasonable, because of the heat, right?” Amalthea said, and Roras nodded.

“Good. And arriving in the middle of the night is always suspicious. I’d say we leave this night, around midnight. If nothing goes wrong, we should arrive at the capital before the heat reaches its peak. Your opinion, Roras?”

“Sounds like a solid plan. If you arrive in the morning nobody will question you. Just say you’re coming from Tar’kesta, it’s only four hours away from Shastinasio. Laudatas isn’t exactly popular with the capital, you can guess why.”

 _No, because you_ _’re a lying piece of shit who probably is best buddies with every crook on this damn planet while acting like a saint whenever someone from Palaven or the Citadel calls._ But Arek had to give it to him, Roras was convincing. His objections and advice made sense, and if his big plan was to betray them, why guiding them around a thresher maw nest in the first place. Pushing them into one of nature’s death traps would be the easiest, cleanest way to get rid of them, and neither the Council, nor the Alliance, nor the Hierarchy would blame him.

“It’s settled then. I’ll make sure that a shuttle is ready for you, unless you want to use your own. Which is a bit too well in shape for travelers who want to keep it low, if I may say so. You need food, clothes, unregistered weapons that don’t scream Alliance from afar. Excuse me for a second.” A call interrupted Roras. Arek didn’t recognized the voice that called for Roras’ immediate presence. He was surprised when Roras frowned and rose from his seat. He had thought that only Officer Cantura would possess the authority to interrupt a meeting without giving an explicit reason.

“I’m sorry, guys. I hate to end our conversation like this. But look at the time! Let’s have a late lunch when I'm done, and check the shuttles in the afternoon, yes?” Roras smiled with relief when Amalthea ensured him that everything was fine and they could clear up the details later. He logged out of his computer and hurried past them towards the door.

“Good, I’ll see you then. Oh, and Arek!” Half out of his office, he turned around. Arek tensed. Why was he singled out? Had he said something wrong, or had his thoughts been written all over his face while he tried to make up his mind over the whole situation?

“Please wait in the lobby. I’ve got a surprise for you, and I’m sure you’ll love it!”

 


	34. Adventure Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise! Arek might actually have fun. Maybe Roras isn't 100% evil after all? Will we ever know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't appreciated you guys openly lately, have I? 
> 
> Yo, everyone! It's so awesome that you're reading this tiny little story every week. Thank you so much for giving a bunch of OCs from a fandom-newbie a chance, and for sticking around. 
> 
> We've reached 34 chapters with this one, next week, this will be the longest fanfic I've ever written, and I've had fun with every chapter so far. Which is also thanks to you!
> 
> ♥

Arek ’s feet were tapping on the floor. He was sitting on one of the chairs for visitors. The lobby was empty most of the time, few turians came and left, nobody stayed. He recognized a few faces from the party last night, but nobody had time for more than a smile and a nod. It was close to noon, and everybody was hurrying to finish their work and go on a break before the heat was becoming unbearable. 

He thought of their arrival, when he, Amalthea and Meyrani had been waiting here together after Captain Cantura had left them. He couldn ’t believe that only a day had passed since then. There wasn’t much progress as far as their mission was concerned, yet, so much had happened. 

He wondered what kind of surprise he had to expect from Roras. They hadn ’t seen the Captain today, and he hoped whatever was going to happen, that she wasn’t involved. Also, that he ended the meeting so abruptly was strange. At first, Arek feared that Mojo had managed to get caught, but if that had been the case, he was sure Mojo would have found a way to message them. He was an adult who knew this town better than them, he could look after himself. 

“Ethan Wolf? Hello, Invictus to Ethan Wolf!”

“Oh, hello!” Dammit, he had almost forgotten about his fake name. He looked up, seeing a turian smiling at him. He seemed friendly enough, despite the LSG uniform he was wearing. So at least he wasn’t in trouble.

“Wait, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” Arek smiled back at him, slightly ashamed. He had tried hard to better himself lately, but the many new names and faces still made it hard for him to tell turians apart. That all of them were having the same face markings didn’t help at all, but he was sure that he had seen these friendly, brown eyes before. 

“Maybe, but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced to each other. I’m Officer Serna Indalus.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Officer Indalus.” Arek stood up, took the offered hand and shook it. He liked this guy with his friendly smile and relaxed pose. The uniform was less rigid on him than on Captain Cantura, this officer almost gave it a casual look. 

“Same, but call me Serna, please. Did Mayor Decares tell you why I’m here?” Serna sounded slightly amused, as though he was already guessing the answer. 

“Nope, I have no idea. He told me to wait here, and that it’s a surprise.” 

“Thought so, I can tell from your clothes that you’re not prepared at all.” He looked at Arek’s bare legs and arms, pausing with a confused expression when he saw the cuts, but didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not sure what you mean?” _Thank the Gods, he didn_ _’t ask about the arm, would have hated to give them another reason to gossip about Rani._

“Well, for today’s special program you need to change.” Serna laughed, pointing at his boots. “Sturdy boots, long pants, long sleeves.” 

“What’s today’s special program, boiling me alive?” Arek chuckled, following Serna through the lobby to the entrance. 

“Something like that. The mayor heard you wanted to see the jungle, and I was asked to be your guide.” 

“Oh!” That was indeed a surprise that left him speechless. Of course, Roras didn’t know that he had changed his opinion about the jungle, and he would be as surprised as Arek if he knew the reason was his changed opinion about the mayor. His thoughts were on a rampage. He certainly didn’t want to go when the mayor encouraged him to. Yet there was a chance that he only wanted to do him a favor, if so, it would have been nice of Roras to remember his enthusiasm and to organize a guide for him. As long as he stayed away from the death traps Mojo had been talking about this could still be an interesting tour, and a good way to waste time until later. 

Talking about death traps, what if this surprise was just that? A way to get rid of him after all? After all, he wouldn ’t be the first one to have an  _ accident _ in the jungle. 

Would Roras risk that? What would he accomplish by killing him? Was he going to kill all of them, one after another? And risk an investigation, no, that didn ’t make sense. It also wouldn’t make sense if he came up with an excuse why he didn’t want to go, not after he showed his curiosity so openly before. 

Meanwhile, the cab Serna had called arrived.

“We’ll return to your hotel first, and after you get changed, we can leave right away. Don’t worry, I know my way around that place.” Serna patted the assault rifle dangling from his belt. 

“Wait, we leave now? Roras told us to meet him in the afternoon.” He didn’t worry so much about missing an appointment with the mayor, but there were still Amalthea and Meyrani. Arek didn’t like the thought to leave them alone with him, also, he had a vague idea about Amalthea’s opinion on him having a good time while they were preparing their departure.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to show you the whole thing. We’ll be back in time. Also, don’t worry about lunch. The Captain had called your hotel and asked to prepare provisions for us. To be honest, I’m looking forward to this.” Serna laughed, stretching his legs as far as the cab allowed. “Beats sitting around in the office anytime. It’s like a free day for me.”

Serna ’s good mood was contagious, if Arek had a good reason to decline his offer he’d feel guilty. Well, if he took everything into account, enjoying himself was the most diplomatic, less suspicious option. 

“Well, if you say it like this, let’s go and have fun.”

*

Amalthea was becoming restless. 

Their time in Laudatas was almost over, and she anticipated their departure for more reasons than she had suspected when she woke up this morning. 

It had been so easy to forget that they were hunting down killers and conspirators, or at least their contacts. Laudatas ’ alluring charm had turned their stay into an involuntary holiday, which she and the others had accepted readily. Maybe too readily. 

She had had her suspicions that this place was too good to be true, but had willingly shoved her concerns aside. Their time here was limited, too short to snoop around. They needed Roras ’ help, they were cut off from the Hamburg for at least one week, and the weather was nice, the food good, the people friendly… it wasn’t difficult to silence the soldier in her with the many good excuses. 

When she her temper had broken through after Arek ’s report it wasn’t just because she was angry about Roras deceiving her. She had deceived herself. The rational part of her reminded her that it didn’t matter if she had trusted Roras from the beginning or not. They had been dependent on him and would be until they left. True as that was, her pride hated to be deceived, no matter by whom. 

She and Meyrani had used the time after the meeting with Roras to talk about the situation. Rani, of course, hadn ’t been fooled, of course her mind didn’t allow her to buy the convenient show as reality. 

This was one of the rare moments when Amalthea felt a sting of jealousy towards her smart squad mate. She had wondered since the beginning if it had been the right decision to declare her as the squad leader. The young turian was smart and always kept a level head. Meyrani would have been the better choice for the position, Amalthea had thought several times during their last missions. She suspected that, if Meyrani had shown any ambitions to lead the team at any time, their superiors ’ choice would have been different. 

Meyrani had shrugged off Amalthea ’s musing with a laugh.

“It’s easy to stay suspicious when everybody glares at you, and treats you like a second class citizen. We don’t know how things would have been if they treated me like you or Arek.” That was her explanation, and while Amalthea had her doubts, she couldn’t disagree. The citizens of the town had been respectful and friendly to her, and Arek, first regarded with curiosity, had quickly become the darling of everyone who talked with him. Typical. 

“Also,” Meyrani had added, “what difference does it make if you believed this smooth talker, and I didn’t? We’re forced to play along anyway, there was no need to complicate our stay.” With that, the topic was finished for Meyrani, and Amalthea didn’t have much to add. Her friend was right, and confirmed what she herself was thinking.

Arek didn ’t join them and Roras for the promised late lunch, as expected. Captain Cantura had informed them of Roras’ surprise for Arek, and assured them he was in best hands and would return some time this afternoon. Arek had called a little bit later, telling them he was about to leave the town with a Serna Indalus for a few hours. He assured them that he had packed medi-gel and was also given a gun in case he had to defend himself. 

“If everything else fails, I still have my biotics,” he had laughed while she heard him rushing through his room. That eased their worries. As long as he didn’t forget that he was a biotic over his excitement he’d be fine.

There was a chance that Roras was working against them, and delaying their departure long enough to warn their targets, and luring Arek away could be a part of this scheme. If so, that had probably happened well before their arrival, once after he had been briefed about their mission. On the other hand, Meyrani and Amalthea agreed that nothing hinted at the mayor trying to harm them. 

He wasn ’t an idiot. He knew how to keep investigators from Palaven away, but he lacked a similar influence and power over the Alliance. There was hardly one species left in the galaxy that didn’t consider humans as nosy and meddlesome, and also stubborn. The prejudice worked in their favors, assuring their safety. 

They decided to let Arek have his fun, while they tried their best to keep their smalltalk with Roras cheerful and friendly. Amalthea was disgruntled with herself, it was far too easy for her to pretend that she was comfortable in his presence, partly because she had to admit that she did enjoy his jokes and chatter. 

This man was good. Even Meyrani relaxed when he was around. Roras treated her kindly and with respect, without any airs of condescension. Amalthea understood that she needed to take a break from the glares and snide remarks, even when the friendliness came from the supposed enemy.

Supposed. That she was thinking this word when reflecting Roras ’ behavior angered her. Mojo had no reason to make up the tale Arek had told them, and she had every reason to believe him. She had observed that stubborn idiot since they started working together. Pain in the ass, jerk, annoyance, arrogant, insubordination - and this were only a few terms she’d use to describe Mojo. Liar wasn’t one of them. If anything, he was too honest when he should better shut up. 

And he genuinely seemed to care about Arek. Their banter had changed a little while ago, from hostile to teasing, and - which astonished her the most - he had a good influence on Arek. 

Amalthea adored Arek, as a friend, and the little brother asari never had. He was kind, honest, generous, and affectionate towards friends and lovers. Also, egocentric and shallow, which often lead to remarks or questions that weren ’t always considerate towards his alien friends. There was no ill will behind him overstepping boundaries or ignoring social cues different from what he was used to from humans, and his apologize were sincere. However, his behavior had changed for the better in that regard. He paid more attention, and was actually learning to understand his turian friends, instead of always asking her or Meyrani to translate the turian body language. 

Arek ’s influence on Mojo was evident, too. The turian was still a stubborn jerk, and oh, she still wanted to shake him for the stunt he had pulled after their arrival. But that aside, he worked with them lately instead of ignoring the team, and even listened to her if she gave orders. She had to give Arek credit for that change of behavior in Mojo, and she was glad about the changes, but it still made her feel a bit better about her qualifications as their leader. 

They finished their late lunch with cold juice in the shades of the trees around the pool, in Roras ’ company. The day had forgotten about the storm at night. With the sun crawling over its peak, the heat was back. The air flickered, and sweat was running down Amalthea’s neck, despite the shade and her thin clothes. 

She was tempted to follow the example of several turians and let her feet dangle in the water, but for that, she had to sit down. 

She wasn ’t sure whether she was able to sit still for long. There were still preparations to be made. They needed food, decide for a shuttle, pack their stuff, and inform Mojo. 

Except packing and agreeing with Mojo on a plan to sneak him on board of the shuttle unseen, nothing was their responsibility. They still depended on Roras and Captain Cantura. 

She wished she could enjoy the last hours in Laudatas. Instead, she had to wait, to hope that she didn ’t misjudge Roras a second time, and trying to conceal how badly she wanted to grab her team and leave this place. 

Roras excused himself after they agreed to meet at the office tower, to inspect a few shuttles. 

The sun was disappearing behind the town walls when Amalthea and Meyrani arrived. Roras was already waiting for them, waving.

“Isn’t Arek with you?” How weird to see Roras being the worried one. 

The two women exchanged a glance.

“He’s probably having the time of his life as the jungle king,” Amalthea joked, irritated with that damn horny human, who was either still playing the adventurous explorer, or cuddling somewhere with Mojo. Hopefully the latter, that would give her an excuse to scold both.

*

Arek was having the time of his life. 

More than once he was tempted to ignore Serna ’s advice to keep his hand to himself. The jungle was beautiful, with its lush green and spots of flaming red and bright yellow, dark blue and all shades between. The thick canopy had preserved the moisture of the night and the morning, and dew was sparkling on flowers and fruits where slim sun rays sneaked past the gigantic shield of leaves. 

He inhaled the smell of moist earth and wet plant, picking up sweet and tart scents of the beautiful blossoms around him. If this had been earth, he ’d reach out and pick the nearest fruit and bite into it. As this was Invictus, he valued his life too much to risk it for his romantic ideas about old adventures. 

To his disappointment, they hadn ’t seen any animals yet, but maybe that was for the better. Instead, he listened to the chirps and songs of unseen birds, and was grateful they hadn’t encountered any unpleasant insects. 

He had to thank Roras for this surprise later, and he wouldn ’t have to pretend his delight. 

Even without the beautiful nature around him the trip was a success - the air was fresh and cool, and leaves high above him protected him from the sun. His worries about being boiled alive in his boots, long pants and long sleeves had been a waste of time. The clothes were a little damp after climbing over tree trunks and dodging low branches for more than an hour, but he wasn ’t hot, and, for the first time since their arrival, he wasn’t soaked with sweat. 

Serna was a treasure of a man. He was funny, witty, curious, but never obtrusive. He had a way to make Arek talk, tickling him with jokes and friendly banter. Arek was comfortable in his presence, despite the impressive appearance. Serna was taller than Mojo, his shoulders wider, but there was nothing intimidating about him. He still had troubles to judge if a turian was attractive or not, but he ’d use his new acquaintance anyway to make Mojo jealous. 

_ Stupid idea. Don _ _ ’t even think of anything like that. _

“Careful!” Serna laughed when Arek stumbled. They were balancing over a gigantic fallen tree, and a thick layer of moos turned the exercise in a slippery task. 

“Thanks.” A chuckle masked Arek’s believe, and the embarrassment that he had to be caught mid-air by a guy so much taller, as though he was a helpless civilian. 

“I’m surprised, you’re quite fit,” Serna remarked when Arek jumped down at the end of the tree. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but you look, well… Okay, that’s sounding bad either way, please forget I said anything.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Arek rolled up his sleeves, flexing his lean muscles. “Humans must look fragile to you guys. But we’re tougher than it seems, and years of training at an Alliance Academy makes you pretty resilient.”

“Alliance? I thought you’re an inspector on the Citadel?” 

“Ah, yes, of course, I mean…” _Fuck. Well done, Arek, you idiot!_ Of course he had to slip up sooner or later, but why now, when they were as good as out of the city, and why while he was alone with this big dude in a place where one step meant death? 

“I quit the Alliance after finishing the Academy, and yeah, long story.” _That_ _’s right. Keep it simple. No complicated lies._ Now Serna only had to swallow it.

“It’s okay.” The turian chuckled, giving Arek a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I guessed something was up. Don’t worry, won’t ask details, and won’t tell anyone. Roras trusts you, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was worrisome and reassuring at the same time. Being a nice fellow to talk to meant nothing in this town, that wasn ’t an indicator if Serna was trustworthy or not. He trusted Roras’ judgment, that could be good, that could be bad, depending on how much Roras was working against them. And even if all was fine from that angle, there was the lack of surprise that Arek found strange. How strong had this guy’s assumptions been, and if it was so easy to look through them, how many citizens had they really fooled? 

His team against a whole town, a whole town against them - Arek didn ’t like the odds. 

“You get along with most turians here quite well, I heard.” Serna didn’t show any sign of suspicion or concern, he chatted on in the same friendly manner as before. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just that as a human, you’re a bit of a sensation. Word is, the captain’s little girl thinks you’re some kind of pop star.”

“Don’t remind me!” Arek groaned. He kept a step or two behind Serna, following him closely. He had lost his sense of direction a while ago, and couldn’t tell how far they had ventured into the jungle if his life depended on it. Checking his omni-tool was a waste of time, there were no maps of this place. 

“Yuda is a sweet kid, but her mother seems to think I’m some kind of child eating monster. Gotta admit though, it’s kinda cute how some turians are so intrigued by my hair!” 

“ _Turians_ , eh?” Serna stopped, hardly twitching when Arek bumped into him. “Do you work closely a lot with turians? Except the girl from Palaven? Close enough to let them touch your hair, I mean?” 

“Might be,” Arek replied with a grin. He rubbed over his injured arm, feeling the long cuts. The skin was slightly warm, but the touch didn’t hurt. The transparent cover protected the wound from sweat and did a good job at holding the flesh together. 

This guy ’s intuition was almost creepy. It could have been a harmless question, but something in Serna’s voice told him it wasn’t. He didn’t want to be rude to him, but Serna’s guesses hit home too much for a stranger Arek hadn’t talked to before. 

“What’s over there?” Arek pointed into the direction Serna was staring, hoping the turian wasn’t insulted by the sudden change of topic. 

“Oh, just another interesting area. Some pretty plants, and there’s a good chance we might see some animals.” Serna checked the clock on his omni-tool, nodding. “It’s not too far, we should make it there and back without getting home too late. The path’s just kinda rough there, some more climbing. You still feel up to it? Or are you too tired?” He looked at Arek’s arm, the smaller plates of his face moving to something resembling a frown. 

“Sure!” Arek stretched his arms over his head, bobbing up and down on his toes. “Climbing has become a hobby of mine lately anyway.” At least he didn’t have to expect any roofs, unless Serna wanted him to climb one of the trees until he reached the canopy. 

Serna continued to lead the way with sure steps. They chatted as they walked and conquered several more tree trunks and giant roots. Serna noticed whenever a plant or flower caught Arek ’s attention, and talked about their name, what they could be used for, and which ways it had to injure or kill ignorant fools who came to close. 

He helped Arek over larger obstacles, pulling him up and making sure he didn ’t stumble or fall. 

Arek was grateful for the help. The air was becoming more humid by the minute, and with the exercise, sweat with beginning to run down Arek ’s neck and temples. The muscles in his legs were becoming tired, and he fell over his own feet and slipped more often than he liked to admit. He was hungry and thirsty, and regretted that he had accepted Serna’s offer to carry Arek’s back for him. Asking for a break was like admitting that he was, as a human, weaker than a turian after all. 

Serna didn ’t show any signs of weariness. He was talking without a pause, about the weather, the history of the town, harmless things that didn’t come near the proximity of personal matters. His steps were still light and he didn’t mind the climbing and jumping at all. That he had to keep his eye on his human companion didn’t slow him down, if anything, it cheered him on. He was really enjoying his free day.

Arek was having fun as well, most of the time. He was living most of his life in spaceships and areas with artificial environments, and the nature he knew from his childhood didn ’t compare to this. He was familiar with endless meadows, rough cliffs, dark and cold forests.

And insects that were only bothersome during the few warmer weeks of the Scottish summer. 

The novelty of a semi-tropic jungle was wearing off as the number of annoying flying pests increased. He pulled down his sleeves again to protect himself from getting bitten. His answers were becoming shorter, sometimes not more than an acknowledging or agreeing grunt after he thought he had swallowed one of these tiny beasts.

This little adventure was worth a sweaty shirt and a sore muscle or two, but he was beginning to look forward to his small hotel room. 

He had lost track of time, but assumed at least one hour had passed when they broke through another wall of shrubbery, finding a clearing behind it. 

Mild disappointment was welling up in him. This spot didn ’t look much different than what he had seen before. The clearing wasn’t large, and the plants weren’t different from the rest of the jungle. The ground was covered with thin grass reaching up to his knees. There were vines hanging from the trees, and branches lying in the grass - nothing he had to climb, which was comforting. 

“Why don’t you look around? There’s more to this than you think.” Serna leaned against one of the trees. He had pulled his gun from the holster, inspecting the weapon. “I’ll keep an eye out for animals. But it’s quiet, doubt there’s any danger.” 

“Yeah, why not.” He might as well do him the favor, and ask him for a well deserved break afterwards. Arek looked up, hoping for a glimpse of the sky. But the green roof shut the sun out. It wasn’t dark, not even dim. This was the weird brightness before a storm, when there was no sun to see, but its daylight was creeping under the layer of unyielding black clouds, illuminating them from underneath. He strolled forward, into the only direction that wasn’t fenced by more bushes and trees. 

A creature was crying from a distance, it was impossible to tell if its shrieking voice belonged to a bird or a mammal. The growing cloud of flies or mosquitoes or whatever these pests were created a constant buzzing in his air. 

All over all, the simple clearing was vibrating with an eeriness it didn ’t deserve. 

Or maybe, he was just having a bad feeling, a hunch that something was off, something that didn ’t have much to do with the location.

“Serna?” He turned around at the sound of footsteps sinking into the soft earth.

“Fuck!” Arek stepped backwards. A gun was pointed at him. 

“That other turian you’re working with.” All hints of a smile were gone from Serna’s face. His voice wasn’t aggressive, but danger was lurking behind the words. “Smaller than me, slim, scared face, right?”

“What is this crap about all of a sudden?” _Fucking Gods, for fuck_ _’s sake! Give me a rest already with all these twisted assholes and give me a second Mojo for a chance!_ In the future, he ’d only trust strangers who treated him like an idiot from the beginning. A stinging pain shot through his arm when his biotic energy was gathering from his cells and flowing towards his skin. He focused to keep it low. If he was lucky, this guy had no idea about his powers, and that little surprise could mean the difference between life and death.

“Why don’t you tell me _how_ closely you’re _working_ together? ” Serna was coming closer, forcing Arek to retreat further. 

Arek ’s next step was hanging in the air. He quickly resumed a firm stand, and glanced over his shoulder.

His face froze, his back stiffened. 

The ground was cut off behind him, and several feet under him, a swamp stretched over the land. One more step separated him from a steep slope leading down.

“So he told you the story,” Serna muttered behind him.

“That’s none of your business.” _Fuck you, who the hell are you?_ Arek tore his eyes away from what Mojo had called the Mire, the place that had become the unmarked grave of one of Mojo ’s friends. But if this guy was thinking that Arek would join the old corpse without a fight, than he better prepared for a surprise.

“None of my business, right. You might as well have said ‘yes’. That he’d… with a human! Disgusting!” Serna spat out. His previously soft dark eyes were hard with loathing.

The horror of Arek ’s realization switched to anger. 

“If you insist, yes. And let me tell you, _he_ wasn ’t disgusted at all. More like the opposite,” he hissed back, biting his tongue. That wasn’t a smart move, but damn, this guy was pissing him off. 

“Hope he’s satisfied with the memory then.” 

Arek heard the shot before it left the barrel. Blue light was shooting through his arms and erupted from his hands. The shockwave hit Serna ’s chest, he jerked up the gun. With a cry, the turian fell backwards.

Before Arek saw him hitting the ground the projectile pierced his shoulder.

Impact and pain knocked him off his balance for the split of a second, and he fell. 

 


	35. Answers, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe, there are answers to be found among all the yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 35!
> 
> This means, if we're talking in chapters, this is my longest fanfic ever! And it's still not over, and I'm not bored or annoyed with it in any way!
> 
> Thank you, everyone who've followed from the beginning and who joined us along the way ♥

“That’s too bad, I hoped he’d be back by now.” Roras was leading Amalthea and Meyrani to the parking lot to have a look at the vehicles he had selected. Three resembled older models of the ET3, one looked like a copy of the Mako, without the canon. He explained that for decades, Invictus had been trying to become independent from the rest of the galaxy, with dubious success. Part of the process was developing lines of shuttles, ground vehicles and skycars exclusively for Invictus, but in the end, they were not much more than copies rebuilt from stolen blueprints. 

All four vehicles were well-used. There weren ’t any marks or prints that identified them as property of a company or security service, and the coatings were faded and chipped. The shells were dented in several places, but looked otherwise intact. All over all shabby, but not broken. Perfect for a group of infiltrating Alliance soldiers who wanted to act like unobtrusive travelers. 

“Anything you need him for?” Amalthea tried for a cheerfully curious tone. That Roras had taken a liking to Arek was obvious, but with all she knew by now she worried about Roras’ reasons. If he had found out their connection to an exiled citizen of this community they’d be in trouble, and Arek didn’t have a reputation of being great at keeping secrets. 

“Me? Nah. But somebody else was hoping to see him today. You can come out, princess!” At his words, a small figure appeared from behind one of the shuttles. 

With dropped mandibles and a disappointed frown, Yuda was standing in front of them.

“Hi!” She did her best to smile when she greeted them. This was a different Yuda from the one they’d seen the night before. Dirt partly covered her face markings, and instead of a pretty, neat dress she was wearing an overall. The legs and sleeves were too big for her, so she had rolled them up. She was barefooted, and skin as well as fabric were stained with more dirt and what looked like grease. 

“Didn’t I tell you to pull them down? What if that had been your skin? You promised me to be careful.” Roras scolded, unusually stern, pointing at a burn hole on her shoulder. “Did you at least use a helmet when welding the bottom?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” She rolled her eyes and focused her attention to Amalthea and Meyrani. “Uncle Roras said I could meet Ethan, I mean, you guys if I help him with the shuttle there.” She pointed at the one she had been hiding behind. 

“It’s a Mantres IV, about five years old, the last one of the series. Well, that’s what it’s called. It’s more or less a remake of the early ET3. It’s altered to do better on sand, but it’s slower than the original,” she apologized, tilting her small head as she critically glared at the vehicle. 

“You seem to like shuttles. And you really look like an engineer today.” Meyrani had chosen the right words. Yuda’s little face was lightening up, and she proudly lifted her chin. 

“Yap! I want to build and repair shuttles and skycars when I’m grown up! But not here, somewhere with a space port! If mom ever lets me. She wants me to become a sniper and join the LSG.” The frown was back and she growled the last words. 

“We’d miss you if you left Laudatas,” Roras tried to comfort the child. “And your mom doesn’t want you to waste your talent for weapons, she only has your best in mind, that’s why she’s so strict with you.”

“I’m more talented with tools and engines. And if I want to study mass effect fields I have to start soon. I’m not getting any younger!” 

The three adults hid a smile. Yuda was quite serious, and although she was still a young child, she didn ’t have the wrong idea. If she was ambitious to work with more than civilian ground vehicles she had a lot of theory to learn, and the sooner she started, the better. 

“I’ll give you my extra-net contact info later. In case you ever need a recommendation for a school or academy outside Invictus.” Meyrani talked to her in all seriousness without a hint of mocking or teasing, tapping at her omni-tool. “Just don’t tell your mom before it’s time to pack and book a flight.” 

“Really? Thank you!” Yuda was beaming, and she shot a triumphant glare at Roras, who raised his hands in defeat. “You’re alright. I don’t get why people talk so bad about you just because you’re from Palaven.”

“Don’t think too much about it. Sometimes, people are suspicious of strangers,” Meyrani explained, but Yuda shook her head. She was liking this kid, Yuda seemed smart, and didn’t buy into nonsense only because it came from the adults around her. 

“Not true, they’re nice to Lanira and Ethan. Where is he?” 

The change of topic came so fast that Amalthea couldn ’t stop herself from grinning, although she was wondering herself. If his tour was taking longer or if he wanted to hang out with Mojo, fine, but he should have updated her. 

“He’s having a closer look at the jungle, Sweetie,” Amalthea explained. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Oh, that’s why he left with Uncle Sadores earlier!” Yuda jumped up, clapping her hands, but suddenly stood frozen on the spot. “Uh, I mean, I thought I saw them on my way back from school. I wasn’t skipping!”

“Of course not, you’d never skip school to sneak after a certain red haired hum- Did you say Sadores? Sadores Kerrus? Wasn’t Ethan with Officer Indalus?”

“I know Uncle Sadores, and I know Officer Indalus. Indalus is like, ancient, and Uncle Sadores isn’t! And he looks better! I’m not stupid.” 

“I know, I know.” Roras suddenly lost his cheerful mood. Frowning, he activated his omni-tool. “Excuse me for a moment, I need to call Lei. Yuda, why don’t you show our friends the cars? You know more about them than I do anyway.”

“Will do! Come!” Yuda grabbed Meyrani’s hand and pulled her with her, impatiently waving at Amalthea to follow them. 

Roras climbed into the only police shuttle on the parking lot, closing the door.

Amalthea and Meyrani listened to the eager voice that bombarded them with information of the two types of vehicles. Her love for the technical details was obvious, the knowledge impressive for a child of her age. They didn ’t want to hurt her feelings, and this was an important part of their preparations, but it was difficult to focus on her. 

Roras ’ behavior was strange. Amalthea thought she had heard the name Sadores Kerrus before, but couldn’t connect a face with it. Meyrani had a better memory, but with the lively child around they couldn’t talk openly. Arek’s absence was becoming a mystery, and Amalthea didn’t like it at all. 

“Which one would you take for a trip through the desert?” Meyrani asked, her gentle smile not giving away her worries. 

“The Denga III.” Yuda pointed at the Mako clone. “It’s close to the original, but without weapons. But it’s sturdy, and doesn’t slow down on sand. Air conditioning’s a bit wonky, but will do.” 

“Thanks, Yuda.” Roras returned to them. He smiled at the child, but he wasn’t as good as Meyrani at hiding his concerns. Amalthea inhaled slowly. Something was wrong with Arek, and for the sake of this town, she hoped Arek was alright. 

“You were a great help. But now it’s time to go home.” He patted Yuda’s back, but she frowned at him, her mandibles giving a nervous twitch.

“You didn’t tell my mom that I, uh…” 

“No, I didn’t tell her you skipped school, don’t worry. Just don’t make it a habit.” Roras patted her head, giving her a wink of complicity. “And now go home and change. Your mother will be here soon, and I don’t think you want to meet her like that, right?” 

That did the trick. Yuda ’s eyes widened, and her back straightened as she grasped the seriousness of the situation for her.

“Right! See you later! Tell Ethan I said hello!” She waved at Meyrani and Amalthea and dashed off. 

Amalthea waited until the child was out of sight, then she turned at Roras.

“I swear, Mayor Decares, if anything happened to Arek this whole town will be trouble. Spit it out already!” Her finger drilled into his chest, her eyes were glowing with the same biotic energy that was flickering around her body.

“Well.” He looked at her calmly, glancing at Meyrani who watched the scene with a grim expression.

“We all have something to spit out, haven’t we?” he finally said in a flat voice. “But for now, stay assured that I’m as worried about Arek as you are. You have to understand that at no point, I’ve intended to harm any of you. I think it’s time you call your friend. We all need to talk.” 

“What, who are you talking-”

“You know who I mean. Don’t worry. I promise nothing will happen to you or him.” 

*

Amalthea didn ’t have a good feeling when she opened her omni-tool to call Mojo.

Hell knew how Roras found out about him, it didn ’t matter, she didn’t like this development either way. She feared they wasted valuable time while waiting for Mojo to answer, grumbling about how easily this whole mess could have been avoided if Mojo had only talked to them earlier. They could have figured out a plan, could have come up with another strategy, and above all - they would have been warned. 

Now they all were in danger, they had no idea where Arek was, or what would happen to Mojo if he showed himself. Mojo had withheld crucial information, and because of that she couldn ’t protect her team. Yet, she couldn’t blame him. She was the one in charge, she was responsible for them, and if he didn’t trust her it was her fault. 

That, however, had to wait. Her new job was damage control. She had to make sure that the situation didn ’t escalate. She’d take care of other matters once Arek was back in one piece and they were out of this town. 

The first step was to keep Mojo under control before anything else. He sounded so relaxed when he finally answered, and for a moment she hoped that Arek was with him. 

“Mojo? Do you see our location? You have to come here at once. They know about you. You’ll cause all of us trouble if you keep hiding. And if Arek isn’t with you we need your help, because that means he’s missing.” She sighed when his voice changed. There went her hope for an easy explanation. She cut off the call when Mojo started shouting. So their problem-turian really had a crush on Arek, how cute. Too bad that she had to use this revelation to manipulate him. If her order didn’t make him show up, his worry would. 

“He’s on his way.” She had been watching Roras during the whole call, waiting for the first signs of aggression. He looked concerned, almost tired, as though he now was forced to confront a situation he had been trying to avoid for a long time. What a strange man. 

“And you don’t have to fool us anymore, Roras.” She wanted to call him by his last name, or his title, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t important whether she wanted to believe that he wasn’t a bad guy or not. It wasn’t wise to burn all bridges when they depended more on his goodwill than ever, but she’d prefer him showing his true face. 

“You know that the one you call Mojo once had another name? Did he ever tell you?”

Amalthea shook her head. Everyone on the ship was well aware that Mojo was using an alias, he hadn ’t made a secret of it. She wondered sometimes how he got away with it, that their superior accepted his fake identity, but in the end, it didn’t make a difference. And curious as most people on board were, Mojo was too unpopular for them to really care. 

“Then he’s Mojo for me, too. It’s up to him when he wants to use his given name again.” Roras words were absolute, a stand that surprised Amalthea, who had been sure that any second now they’d learn who Mojo really was, or rather, who he used to be. 

“That’s very considerate of you. Why?” Meyrani spoke up before Amalthea could ask the same question.

“I respect his decision, and I also want to show you that I’m not working against you here. I say it again, I do not intend to harm you, that includes him. Gotta admit, didn’t expect the intruder Lei reported earlier to be _him._ ” He sighed, keeping his hands in plain sight. Amalthea recognized the gesture, he wanted to make clear that he wasn’t holding or reaching for a weapon. 

“Anyway,” Roras spoke on. “You have to be aware of one thing: I respected his decisions from the beginning. If I hadn’t, he’d never have left Laudatas alive. Don’t forget that.”

A shudder went down Amalthea ’s spine. She didn’t see Roras himself as a big threat if it came to a fight between her and him. However, for a second she had spotted a darkness in his eyes that removed the last doubts that this man was able to kill, or to order a kill, if he had to. She also believed him at once that if Roras had decided it couldn’t be avoided, Mojo wouldn’t have survived witnessing the murder. But at this moment, Roras wasn’t threatening them, and her instincts told her he wasn’t lying. She wished she knew how much she could trust her instincts these days. 

“I don’t get you. What kind of bad guy are you?” she said after a moment of silence, because she had the feeling somebody had to say something. Meyrani, who was quietly watching, didn’t look like she was going to open her mouth to help her out.

“The kind my home needs to be safe, not more, not less. There’s Lei.” 

A skycar arrived at the parking lot, Amalthea recognized it as the one that brought them inside the town only one day ago. The door slid open, and Captain Cantura got out. Her pose was rigid and proud as always, her expression grave.

“Lei, please tell us what you told me a few minutes ago.” Roras greeted her with a handshake, holding her hand for a few seconds. She nodded, pulled her hand free and crossed her arms behind her back. 

“I apologize on behalf of the LSG. Your friend is missing, and most likely in danger.” She didn’t beat around the bush, and Amalthea appreciated it. The captain wasn’t half as skilled as an actor as Roras, and Amalthea was inclined to believe her that she saw this development as a failure on her behalf. Which would mean, in conclusion, that whatever happened to Arek hadn’t been planned by them. Amalthea hoped that was true, no, rather, she wanted it to be true. 

“This morning,” the captain continued, “Roras asked me to appoint one of my officers as a guide to show Mr. Turner the jungle. Of course it was planned as a short tour without leaving the safest paths. I chose one of my most experienced officers, Serna Indalus. That he was seen with Sadores Kerrus instead is most concerning. I… I’ll explain later why. 

I tried at once to contact Indalus at once after after the Mayor ’s call, but I only reached his husband, Tenras.” She paused, taking a deep breath, her face was becoming even graver. 

“Tenras hurried home, and found Serna unconscious. Somebody - Sadores most likely - attacked him with a blunt object and removed his uniform.”

“Spirits! Is he okay?” Roras’ mandibles fluttered while he was stroking his chin.

“He’s alive, that’s all I can tell so far.” The captain was tensed, her voice lacking the usual cold firmness. What was happening, and however the events were connected, had thoroughly shaken her. “Tenras… didn’t really listen to me anymore after his discovery.”

“Understandable,” Meyrani muttered, Roras and Amalthea nodded in agreement. 

“It’s all my fault. I… I can’t express how sorry I am.” The captain’s face was twitching, her voice unusually humble with guilt. “I sent Sadores after, well, _him_ this morning. I thought … because of their history… I didn’t expect him to snap after seeing him again. I misjudged the situation. He was so calm when he informed me that it was indeed, well…”

Amalthea frowned. What exactly was this woman talking about? After  _ him _ , this morning? Did she mean Arek or Mojo? She remembered the abrupt ending of their meeting with Roras. Maybe …

“He calls himself Mojo now, Lei,” Roras said softly, which confirmed Amalthea’s assumption. “He lives a different life now.”

“I’m aware, and I don’t consider this _Mojo_ as one of us. Don ’t worry, Mayor.” She recovered her cold composure, holding up her head proudly. “And I ask for a chance to make up for my lapse of reason. I’m not going to risk the safety of Laudatas for a shady exile.”

“I know you won’t, Lei.” Roras put his hands on her shoulder, gently shaking her to give his words weight. “Mojo will join us any minute, and we have to work together to find Arek. Will you be okay?”

“Of course. But if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather return to the headquarter and round up my officers to organize a search. I’ll keep you updated.” Without waiting for Roras’ reply she rushed back into her car and drove off. 

“We’re out of the loop here, Mayor.” Meyrani stepped up to him, her arms crossed, staring at him without a smile. Her voice was low, reminding Amalthea of that day in the lounge, when she threatened Mojo to slit his throat if he didn’t pull himself together. 

“So somebody took the place of the actual guide,” Meyrani recollected the situation. “If this story is true, why? How did you find out about Mojo being here? Who is this Sadores and what is his connection with Arek and Mojo? And _you_ have to be aware of one thing: I always find out everything I have to know. I have my ways. You might as well be honest with us.”

Amalthea was amazed to hear her talk like this. This could be another one of her bluffs, and act, but she had a hunch that it wasn ’t. Maybe it was time to press her a little more about her mysterious  _ ways _ , once this nightmare was over. 

“Of course.” Roras’ smile didn’t hide his concern for the whole mess. “There’s more to you than the eye can see, I knew that from the beginning. I fear we need to find Sadores and Arek first to understand the whole story, but I’ll answer your questions as far as I can. And here comes someone else who’ll want to hear it.” 

Mojo emerged from a narrow street between two rows of buildings and was running towards them. Two other turians Amalthea hadn ’t seen before - or didn’t remember - were behind him, trying to keep up with him. Roras smiled when he saw the panting couple. 

“Oh, Lei, you’re a bad liar,” he sighed with a sad smile, causing more question marks in Amalthea’s head. 

“Roras! Fucking son of a bitch!” Mojo didn’t take any notice of his squad mates and stormed at Roras, grabbing him by his shirt. “I swear, if anything happened to Arek, I’ll do what I should have done thirteen years ago!” 

“Stop it, Mojo!” With a quick jump, Amalthea was between the two turians, pushing them apart. Mojo growled, refusing to let go of Roras.

“Mojo, back off or stasis! Your call!” she threatened, and finally, he stepped back.

“Why are you on his side? It’s his fault that Arek is missing!” Mojo shouted at her. She didn’t blame him but this didn’t get them anywhere.

“Mojo, all of us here want Arek back, and you’re not helping.” She kept her voice low, but clear. “You’re the only one on this planet who knows this area _and_ Arek, which is why we need you. But if you don ’t calm the fuck down you’ll make it worse for him.” 

He lowered his fists, inhaling sharply. He clenched and unclenched his hands a few time, his talons digging into his palms. His mandibles were pressed firmly against his face, but after a few seconds, they twitched slightly. His breathing slowed down. 

“It’s not my fault he disappeared,” he said, almost defiantly. Amalthea sighed with relief. It seemed like she was finally learning how to handle this guy. 

“It’s good to see you again. You’re looking good, Mojo.” Roras greeted him without hostility in his words, nor did he mocked his name, but Mojo’s temper flared up again at once.

“YOU shut up! I don’t want to hear anything from you!” 

“Mojo, I make the decisions here, not you!” Amalthea snapped. “Roras is willing to give us some answers, and we need them to come up with a plan to find Arek. Get it into your head that for now, we have to work together. Using stasis on you is not an empty threat, I’ll do whatever it takes to get Arek back, and I don’t give a fuck how much it pisses you off! And now _you_ shut up and listen, and meanwhile you’ll maybe notice that nobody else here is threatening you, the illegal intruder.” 

Mojo opened his mouth, and closed it again. He walked up to the skycar behind them and leaned against it. He crossed his arms and remained silent. Amalthea wasn ’t sure if he really listened to her voice of reason, or if he didn’t like the prospect of being put into biotic stasis, and she didn’t care. 

“Roras?” she prompted the mayor, who nodded.

“Mojo, I swear by the Spirits that I’m not behind Arek’s disappearance. I’ll keep it short. Arek was meant to have a look at the jungle, under the supervision of a skilled guide.”

“What?! Fuck this, why-”

“Shut up,” Amalthea cut him off. “Roras, please go on.”

“There were no ulterior motives. He’s a nice guy, expressed he’d like to see it, so I wanted to do him a favor. But somebody switched places with the officer. We didn’t know that until maybe an hour ago. Before I go on, is there anything I should know about you and Arek? Is there something between you?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“They haven’t sorted out what exactly is between them yet,” Meyrani quickly threw in while stopping Amalthea from jumping at Mojo and throttling him. 

“Fuck.” Growling to himself, Roras opened his omni-tool, a foot tapping on the ground while he waited for his call to be answered.

“Lei?” he said when there was finally a voice on the other end. “I fear Arek is in real danger. Jealousy. Sent out your officers to see if Sadores Kerrus is back yet and arrest him. We’re coming to the headquarter right now.” 

“Holy shit, that’s bad,” one of the other turians said.

“You’re kidding me.” Mojo stomped towards Roras, but halted when Amalthea cleared her throat. “You let Sadores go with him, into the jungle?!”

“Listen to me, this is no time for old grudges, okay, Mojo?” Roras said with a sudden air of unyielding authority, and for the first time, Amalthea saw the mayor in him, the former head of the security force, instead of the easy-going guy who was bored by the work on his desk.

“Sadores attacked the officer who was meant to go with Arek. Serna’s barely survived. How he figured out that you have a thing with Arek I have no idea, but that they haven’t returned by now is a sign he somehow had.” Roras looked at the sky. The sun had already vanished behind the walls. It was still a while until sunset, but time was running against them.

“We told you he never forgave you for leaving,” the turian woman said to Mojo, then she turned at Roras. “And he bought the lies _you_ told him, Mayor Decares. He ’s been so bitter about how it ended between them. Maybe he didn’t need to know _if_ there ’s really something between them.”

“I don’t care what he knows and what not!” Mojo brushed her explanation off with a cutting wave of his arm, and pushed himself away from the vehicle behind him. “I’m going to search Arek, before he… before it’s dark.” 

“I’m going with you.” The other turian guy stepped up. “If we hurry, we might get somewhere before the nocturnal critters show up.”

“No!” Roras’ protest thundered between them before they could run off. “I’m not risking your lives, too!”

“I agree with Roras,” Amalthea said. What a chaotic mess. There weren’t many clear answers, but she was putting the pieces together. This Sadora seemed to be some kind of ex boyfriend with a grudge, and had somehow figured out that his ex lover, Mojo, had replaced him with a human, Arek. So he knocked out that other guy, pretended to be an LSG officer, and lured Arek into a death trap. She still didn’t remember if she had seen him before, but the seriousness in the voices of the others spoke volumes. It was unlikely that this guy just wanted to chat with Arek to catch up with Mojo’s recent life.

She feared she was as much to blame of misjudgment as Captain Cantura. If she had worried sooner, instead of assuming that Arek was fooling around somewhere, if she had just pinged Mojo and asked if Arek was with him … No, playing the blame-game was as useless as Mojo yelling and shouting without listening. 

“We’ll all go to the headquarter now.” Roras waved them over to his car. “It’s going to be a bit tight, but it’s just for a few minutes. I’m updating Lei on the way, and she can prepare weapons and torches for you two.” 

*

Mojo was silent during the drive, hardly listening when Resez and Lyret introduced themselves to Amalthea and Meyrani. Fortunately everyone had been smart enough to leave him alone. 

Why did this have to happen? For once, he had been enjoying a few friendly hours, for the first time, he had been at peace with himself and his past. And while he was having a nice chat Sadores went off to kill Arek. To try to kill him. Arek was a trained biotic after all, he wasn ’t easily killed. Despite his size, Sadores didn’t even stand a chance in a fist fight. Yet, they were still gone. If Sadores had attacked Arek, if Arek had fought back, why hadn’t he returned yet? Maybe he just got lost in the jungle. It was easy to get lost in that place. If so, why didn’t he message any of them?

That didn ’t lead him anywhere.

He heard Roras talking with the headquarter, one of the officers had answered his call. All Mojo wanted was to distance himself from Laudatas, Roras, and his family. Physically, and emotionally. He never wanted to see them again, unless it was to shoot Roras. And now he was sitting in a shuttle with him, had to hear his voice, was forced to trust him. Well, he didn ’t, but he had to work with him now. Fate was an asshole. 

As soon as the car stopped, Mojo jumped out, rushing into the LSG headquarter. The others followed.

He stormed down the corridor, towards the weapon storage. As expected,  _ she _ was already waiting for them.

“Don’t say anything,” he snapped when her cold stare pierced through him. She didn’t say anything, not to him. 

“Mojo and I will search the jungle while it’s still daylight. I think I need a bigger gun than this.” Rezes put a pistol on the table. Mojo cringed. It was weird to hear his old friend use his new name all of a sudden. But that who he was now. Earlier had been an exception, a last glimpse back at a life that wasn’t his anymore. 

Zen Cantura was dead, once and for all. 

Rezes took the assault rifles and torches that the captain put in front of him. 

“Here.” He handed one of the rifles to Mojo along with one of the torches. “A sniper rifle won’t help you much if a plague varren jumps into your face.” 

“I’ve knocked out bigger things coming for my face,” he growled, but took the weapon anyway, hanging the torch light around his neck. He also picked one of the med-kits. “But thanks. Let’s move.”

Amalthea put his hand on his arm when he turned around.

“I’m coming with you. He’s my friend, too.” 

This woman. He kinda liked her, and he appreciated the genuine fear he saw in her eyes. It wasn ’t their squad leader who was talking, but a friend who cared about Arek. As a squad leader, she wouldn’t have suggested to come along.

“You don’t know your way around the place. You’d hinder us.” He couldn’t bring himself to thanking her. Damn pride. He didn’t want her to know that he was appreciating her, and he felt guilty about his bad timing to worry about bullshit like that. 

“You’re right,” she said with a understanding smile. “Meyrani and I will help searching the town for any sign of Sadores. Just be careful out there, okay? I want Arek back, but I don’t want to lose you either.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Rezes, be careful.” The captain wasn’t acknowledging Mojo’s presence with one word, she didn’t even look at him. “I ordered the officers I could spare to prepare themselves to help you. They’ll head out soon as well. Just don’t do anything risky. You’re not trained for anything like this.”

“I’ll be careful, Misses Cantura.”

Mojo had almost forgotten that Rezes wasn ’t a soldier, that he wasn’t even a security guard. While Rezes was familiar with the area, he wasn’t a fighter, he had shown that clearly during their fist fight. He should tell him stay behind, that it was to dangerous. He should go alone. He shouldn’t have forgotten about Arek and the others just because it was so nice to talk to his old friends again. He should have kept an eye on Arek, or told him to meet him this afternoon. He should have told him everything about this cursed town while they’d still been on board of the Hamburg. 

There were so many things he should have done and said, and he hoped there ’d be time for that later. If not, if anything happened, if… Mojo didn’t want to be alone if he found out that Arek maybe was…

 


	36. I’m a Human Biotic…Get Me Out of Here!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arek, the sole survivor. At least he doesn't have to eat cockroaches or kangaroo testicles, that's something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Finally, the chapter you've all been waiting for!
> 
> I had a bit of a meltdown two days ago, I apologize for that. I'll read and answer all your comments now, and reply to those who tried to talk sense into me on tumblr soon!

Arek bit on his tongue, swallowing a groan of pain.

Sharp thorns had drilled through his clothes and into his flesh, they were burning in his legs, back and sides.

He was holding still, silently praying that the thorns didn’t poison him.

His head hurt from landing on a root, but he had to wait before he could check if he was bleeding, or if anything was broken.

Somebody was staring down on him, he felt the eyes on his motionless body, heard the rustling above him. Blood seeped from his shoulder where the projectile had hit him. If this turian madman decided to fire another shot - just to make sure he was dead - it would be over.

The silence around him was unnerving, and he couldn’t tell if he could hear the other man panting or if it was his imagination.

Arek had no idea how he had done it, but he had managed to cast a biotic sphere around him when he fell, the second in his life, and for the second time it had saved him from certain death. It lasted only for a fleeting moment, but it made the difference between falling on this deadly bed of thorns and roots from a several feet height or only several inches.

Like that one time on Noveria, using a biotic skill he had never trained had drained his biotic energy reserves. This time, he hadn’t been engaged into a fight beforehand, so if he focused, he might be able to fire one shockwave without fainting. But aiming from his position, with two hurting arms, seemed almost impossible.

So he waited, pretending to be dead, hoping it would fool Serna.

He kept his breathing slow and shallow, his eyes half-closed. Last time after he used the biotic sphere he had fainted. He didn’t want to imagine what this place would do to him if he fainted now, without somebody close to pull him into safety.

 _I_ _’m an idiot. I should have listened to Mojo, but no. Of course having a good time with a stranger who seemed nice was so much more important._ How it had come to this was a mystery to him he wished he could solve while his body was still warm and breathing. If he had to die here, he wanted at least to know why. The mood had suddenly changed between him and Officer Serna, when they were talking about his work, and when he blurted out that he belonged to the Alliance.

Was Roras behind this? Did he send Serna to kill him? Why? What had Serna said again before he shot at him? That it was disgusting to be with a human?

 _Right, this wasn_ _’t about the Alliance, it was about Mojo! But why?_ An idea was beginning to form into his head. Of course, Mojo had had a life here, which included family, friends, and probably one or two people who used to be more than friends.

 _He must have liked you a lot if he_ _’s willing to kill because of you after all these years. What about you, Mojo?_ Great, as though the thorns weren’t stinging enough.

Finally, the figure on the ledge moved. The ground he was walking on was too soft to produce the sound of footsteps, but Arek heard a branch cracking and the rustling of leaves, then there was silence again.

“About time,” he sighed. He moved his right arm, flinching at the pain. A fall like this didn’t help to improve the condition of the cuts, but he could whine about that later. He touched his head where it had hit the ground. Sticky. A look at his fingers - blood. Not good. However, it didn’t seem to be much, so it wouldn’t kill him.

Carefully, he tried to stand up. It was as though a dozen knives had stabbed him, some where pulled out now, some blades broke off to keep stuck.

 _It'_ _s funnier in a cartoon than in real life, that’s for sure._ He pulled several thorns out of his arms and legs, the mental image of a wonky cartoon figure looking like a porcupine after running into a cactus failed to cheer him up. He was bleeding from several tiny wounds, and from what he had heard about the local wildlife, the smell of blood could be a problem.

And he hadn’t even removed the worst thorn yet.

The others were between the length of a toothpick and a small pen. The largest one, as long as a knife, was still sticking in his side. It was more than twice as wide as the others, and blood had already soaked his shirt around it. If he pulled it out the bleeding might become worse. He felt it with every breath and with every careful step. It didn’t seem to have injured any vital organ, put it hurt as hell.

If he removed it, the bleeding might become worse, and if he was wrong about his organs, he was in danger.

If he didn’t remove it, it would be painful to walk, close to impossible to fight, and he risked that it would drill into one of his organs after all.

The third option was to sit down, bury his face in his hands and to curse his life and his own stupidity. It wasn’t dumb enough that he didn’t listen to Mojo, oh no. In addition, he had given his bag to his killer, with medigel, water, and digestible food.

Throughout his life there had always been friends who had teased him that one day, his blind confidence in every friendly smile would get him killed. He wasn’t naive, he didn’t think that only nice people smiled and that bad guys always frowned or laughed evilly. It was just…he wanted to believe in the good of people, that was why he silenced the warning voice in his head so often, and this time, he was paying for the good luck he had had in the past.

Well, sitting down and wailing in self-pity wouldn’t get him out of the mess he had brought himself into. He looked up, but it was as he had feared - the wall in front of him was too steep, the few roots growing over it didn’t offer enough spots to grab on. Also, he wasn’t sure if his exhausted body and injured arms would be strong enough. Sweet, the only time he’d have preferred climbing over other options it was out of question.

So he had to find another way out of this place, and he had to find it soon. Another thing he saw was worrying him more than the ledge - it was getting darker above him. Arek wondered if it really was time already for the sun to set, or if it had just wandered on and that dusk was arriving sooner inside the depths of the jungle than in the outside world.

He lifted his arm to check the time on his omni-tool, and broke out into a laugh. He really was an idiot. Three friends were waiting for him, and all he had to do was calling for help.

The hopeful joy was shattered when he was greeted with an error message. The omni-tool wasn’t completely broken, but if he remembered the error-code correctly, either his fall or the sudden release of biotic energy had damaged it enough to send it into repair mode. It was still functioning enough to fix itself, but had only reached 4% so far. At this rate, it would take more than two hours until he could use basic functions like messaging again.

“Looks like I’m on my own for a little while longer. Well, Arek, old boy, time to show off the soldier in you. You wanted an adventure, here you have it.” He tried to laugh, but ended with a sigh. Yes, now he was having his adventure, a real one where a wrong step or decision could cost him his life, and it started - now.

First, he had to make up his mind about the thorn in his side. He ripped off the right sleeve of his shirt. Hissing through his teeth, he grabbed the end sticking out of his body and pulled it out. Making a low, whining sound, he pressed the torn-off sleeve onto the wound. The fabric at once soaked up with blood. If he only had his medigel with him…

He didn’t saw a way to apply a pressure bandage, maybe he was lucky to find something he could use on his way. Hoping the bleeding would stop, he held the sleeve in place, and started his way deeper into the jungle.

His stomach threatened to turn at the foul smell of decaying plants and bodies coming from the mires. The horrible secrets lying on the grounds of the swamps made it worse, so Arek tried to think of something else.

The air was standing still, and swarms of pesky insects were buzzing around him. They went for his shoulder and his arm, were the blood was fresh and plenty. Arek slapped them away, hurting his own wounds, which was still better than becoming a walking buffet for these pests.

He didn’t dare to take a break to wipe off the blood, or to change his remaining sleeve and the legs of his pants to improvised bandages. The further he went, the dimmer the light became. The ground was overgrown with moss and gave in under his weight. The squishing noises his boots made were sickening. It was getting more and more difficult to tell firm ground from a sluggish pool that wanted to drag him down and suffocate him under its surface. He hurried back into safety whenever a foot was sinking too deeply, but as he walked on, the safe path was becoming slimmer and slimmer.

If he rested, he risked that it was becoming too dark, if he walked on blindly, he risked a wrong step.

He licked his lips. His throat was dry and hurting. He’d have given an arm for a sip of water, a small sacrifice, given that both arms were useless. His stomach was grumbling. The last real meal had been breakfast. He had stuffed an apple into his mouth on their way to the jungle, more for the refreshing taste than to still his hunger. Back then, he was too excited about what was lying ahead to feel hungry.

His past survival training didn’t help him. On many other, earth-like planets, most grasses and mosses would have been safe. The one lesson they had about dextro plants had covered basic plant life he would have found on Palaven. Another lesson was to avoid assuming that something was safe to eat because it looked alike. That could get a human killed even on Earth when visiting another country.

That he had used up most of his biotic energy made the hunger worse, but he had no choice but ignoring the growls that were gnawing black holes into his stomach.

The thirst was more difficult to ignore. Shoving all reason and common sense aside became more and more tempting, and the swampy ground around him looked less and less disgusting. He knelt down, his fingers touching the mud in front of him.

Clear water wasn’t a problem, water was water, but the slobber to his feet was as far away from clear water as he was away from Earth. Levo bacteria would have been bad enough, but dextro, plus dextro plants, rotten dextro plants, rotten dextro corpses…

His stomach tightened, shooting acid up his throat. He shook his hand, wiping it with wide spread fingers on his shirt, and stood up.

He checked his omni-tool. Repair status at 25%, and he had no idea how much time had passed.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, brushing insects from his shoulder. He was caring less about them, and he was beginning to accept the thought of buzzing noises in his head for the rest of his life.

Time to march on.

He remembered Mojo talking about the jungle. A good place to relax, clear the mind, and to hunt.

To hunt what, exactly? So far, there had been insects and birds he more heard than saw. What kind of game was living in a place like this? Arek would be satisfied to be told the answer, he didn’t want to find out.

A growl in the distance, followed by a shrill shriek that died away with a gargle.

He looked with worry at the wound in his side. He had a hunch that whatever was out hunting here didn’t care about what Arek wanted to find out and what not.

The piece of cloth was soaked with blood. His hand was red, and stiff from pressing the fabric against his body, but the wound had stopped to bleed for now. Same for his shoulder. The projectile had cut through his skin and flesh, but it was a superficial wound, ugly, painful, but not dangerous. The cuts on his arms didn’t bleed, but weren’t fine either. The invisible coating had cracked and mostly fallen off. The flesh was red and swollen and warm to the touch, the first clear signs of an infection.

He moved both arms, lifting them. The injured shoulder hurt, but he could move it and raise the arm over his head. His other arm was in a worse state. The pain was blinding, and the flesh threatened to tear open again if he didn’t hold it still. He could use his hand, as long as he didn’t lift it above his chest. Damn, that was his dominant hand.

Something rustled through the low-grown bushes.

Arek stood motionless, listening with bated breath to the slurping that followed. Something was drinking this disgusting water, hidden from his sight.

He recognized the bush, he had seen one like this in the garden on top of the academy’s roof. He remembered the long thorns, that know seemed a lot less impressive compared to the ones that had impaled him. Yet, they were still large and pointy enough to cause his human skin and flesh harm, he didn’t have to touch them to know that.

Whatever was crawling around here had a thick skin that wasn’t bothered by thorns. His bare hands wouldn’t be a match for it.

Arek closes his eyes, taking a moment to inhale and exhale slowly. He focused on his body behind the pain and hunger. Since his fall, his cells hadn’t recovered, instead, he had become weaker. If something attacked him, he had maybe one try left to fight back. A weak try coming with a price. He’d be hungrier than before, he’d be weaker, with a good chance of fainting.

Horrible odds, but he had to accept them, unless he found a weapon. He opened his eyes and looked around. Pathetically thin trees were growing around him. He’d have to cross the muddy parts to reach them and break off their branches, which would work if he found a way to walk over water without sinking. Large trees with trunks wider than two or three men were standing tall, their branches adding to the canopy separating him from the sky.

Arek moved on, keeping his eyes and ears open, hoping that the creature didn’t pick up his scent.

After a while he found a dead piece of wood, a branch fallen from one of the tall trees. It was too wide for him to wrap his fingers around it, too sturdy for him to break it. He weighted it in his hand. Good and heavy, the right size for a small bat. If he could aim with his dominant hand he could throw it at the skull of an attacking beast, maybe even knocking it out. With his only usable hand it became useless as a projectile. He took it with him anyway. It was better than nothing, and it ended in long, mean splinters, sharp enough to poke out an eye.

But most importantly, it gave him a sense of power. Pathetic as it was, it was a weapon. A slim chance of survival was better than none.

 _Does this swamp ever end?_ His feet were hurting in his boots. He was covered in filth and sweat, and no matter which way he turned his head, he couldn’t escape the smell of the swamp and his own, dried blood. He felt a migraine approaching, his throat was burning from thirst and acid. His body warned him, begged him for a rest and for food and water. He told himself to shut up, to leave him alone, there was nothing he could do, but the more irritated he was becoming with himself, the more his body seemed to scream back at him.

 _I wonder how late it is_ _…_ Repair status: 65%.

He stopped. He had no idea where he was going. He had no clue about the dimensions of the jungle. How long again did it take to reach the other side when they’d drive around it? What was he hoping to achieve if he went on like this? That he’d just walk out of this green hell once he reached the other side? How so, if he had no idea in which direction he was going? He wasn’t in control of the path, the path was controlling him. He had no influence over this way, where the ground was firm enough to carry him he would step. He might as well be walking in a circle, or straight into his grave. Nothing indicated that he was coming closer to a point where he could hope for a way out.

Maybe the best strategy would be to go back to where he had fallen and wait for help. Yes, that made sense. His omni-tool should be ready soon, so he could even call the others, and they could track his signal. Mojo knew his way around, he would find him. Later, Arek would have to apologize to him, for not listening, and for dragging him back to this place.

But he would be safe.

The resolve soothed his pains a little and boosted his mood. All he had to do was to be careful not to trip or miss the path because he was too eager. Just a little more focusing, and he should be fine.

He followed his own footsteps back for a few minutes, but the ground became even soon, as if nobody had been here in ages. Arek saw how this was a good place to commit a crime. It would be difficult to find any traces, and with most of the ground consisting of swampland, it was close to impossible to look for dead bodies. Without a strong hint or a witness he wouldn’t have a clue where to start looking for proof if he suspected anyone disposing of a body here.

Arek shuddered. He couldn’t help trying to imagine how Mojo had felt when he was hiding here, watching a person he knew being killed, unable to do anything about it. Also, he was beginning to feel cold.

Night surely came sooner down here than outside the jungle. Besides, he was exhausted, in pain, and tired enough to be tempted to lie down and take a nap. It wouldn’t help against his hunger and thirst, but sleep would restore some of his biotic powers. But not enough to risk being eaten by a predator.

He jerked around. The rustling noise was back, closer than he liked it. The piece of wood was lying heavily in his hand. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but if he was followed and attacked, he’d go down with a fight.

He focused more on his surroundings as he walked on. If something pounced at him from the shadows it wouldn’t matter if he hit it with his branch or not, the impact would push him from the safe ground into the swamp.

His frustration was growing with every step. As much as he tried, he didn’t find any landmarks that told him he was on the right track, and his sense of time had left him hours ago. Or minutes, or days or ages, as far as he was concerned, he had been walking around this hell for either moments or a decade. He glanced down at his wrist. Repair status: 69%.

So, either he was slower than he had thought, or the repair matrix had slowed down. He wished for any indicator that allowed him to guess how far away he was from the ledge, and if he was going into the right direction.

Arek’s spirit was sinking when he spotted a group of trees he hadn’t seen before, but at the same time, a rush of excitement shot through him.

He would have noticed them if he had walked past them before, which means he was more lost than before.

But he recognized them from the academy’s garden, and he had eaten their fruits before, at the evening affair last night, and in the car on his way here. Slightly too tart for his taste, but juicy, refreshing, and digestible!

Holding himself back, he slowed down his pace. His thirst seemed to worsen the closer he came, urged him on to hurry, but more than anytime before, he had to keep a clear head. Greed would get him killed if he broke into a run.

Finally, he reached the closest tree, a triumphant smile on his face, his chest heaving. He had stopped bothering about insects, food was the only thing that mattered. For the first time during this cursed afternoon - or evening - his luck was back.

Arek had to stand on his toes, a difficult task with shaking knees, and to stretch his arm as far as possible to reach the lowest branch, but he did it.

He grabbed one of the apple-like fruits, finding it firmly attached to its branch, unwilling to be removed from its home by some lost stranger who had no business to be here. Too bad, he didn’t have the luxury to be considerate of the wishes of the plant that could save his life.

His hand closed tightly around it, and he gave it a hearty shake, pulling the branch down with his weight. Wood creaked, and suddenly, the apple gave in. The branch snapped back, releasing two or three more fruits.

“HA!” Arek cried out in triumph, when a dark shadow fell upon his face.

 _FUCK, what the hell_ _…!_ He dropped his loot, staggering backwards, his hands furiously floundering as he tried to free his face from that thing. It was alive, its body hard and smooth, and obviously, it was as surprised as he was. Tiny claws or spikes poked his face and throat. It didn’t move and it didn’t bite him, but it made a low, squeaky hiss, like a lobster thrown into boiling water.

He fell on his back, finally managing to knock that thing off his face.

Quickly, he jumped back to his feet. His legs protested against the forceful movements, the pain in his arms numbed his mind. The cuts in his arms had broken open, blood tickled over the sore skin.

Arek didn’t have time for that. Without thinking he grabbed his piece of wood.

He shrieked in disgust when his eyes registered the ominous creature.

Its body was almost as big as his own head. In the middle it was so thin that looked like it should break into two parts, not much unlike a wasp. But this thing was black with bright green spots, the perfect camouflage for hiding in a tree. It was standing on four thin, long legs with odd joints, two attached to each part of the body. They moved independently, creating a bizarre flow of motion. Two legs beneath the head were raised, twitching threateningly at him, and he clearly saw its head, with the many eyes and the mouth with sharp pincers.

 _Holy fuck, it_ _’s a spider! A nightmare of a spider!_

It made the grotesque hiss again, slowly moving towards him.

“I swear to the Gods, if you don’t fuck off…” Unfortunately, his threat didn’t impress this thing. If it was a bit smaller, and a bit less looking like made of polished metal - and less hostile - he would have squashed it. But for all he know he might release a gush of acid, if he didn’t slip on its body.

 _Please, by the Gods, stop moving!_ He couldn’t walk back any further without looking, the ground was already squishing under his boots. His brain had a hard time processing what his eyes saw, the ways the legs moved and twitched with their too many joints. He was feeling sick on his stomach and in his head.

Suddenly, the thing jumped high and leaped at him, its legs far stretched and ready to wrap themselves around Arek’s head.

“FUCK!” He swung his branch, hitting the creature mid-air. Acid shot up his throat when its carapace cracked open like an egg. He let go of his weapon, hurling spider and wood into the tree.

The tree’s top was shaking under the impact, and, to Arek’s horror, half a dozen black and green hissing spiders were dropping on the ground.

Two fruits were lying near enough to reach. He grabbed them, turned around and dashed away, praying that what he thought was the path back actually was the path back.

When he had reached the spot from where he had seen the trees he halted and looked back. None of the things was following him. Shuddering, he watched as dark blotches crawled up the tree trunk. It was time to continue his way, the further he got away from these things the better.

Arek grumbled to himself over the loss of his only weapon in exchange for two small apples. He and his mind debated if it was better to eat them now, and use the boost of nutrition they might provide to walk faster. Or if the wise choice was to wait, lasting as long as possible without eating, preferably not wasting his meager provisions before he arrived at his destination. If fate was cruel to him he had to wait until the morning for help, in that case it wasn’t wise to eat now.

He decided to postpone the discussion, returning to it after he found a new weapon. His encounter with the spiders had been a warning. Just because he didn’t see any creatures that didn’t mean they weren’t here. Having his thirst quenched wouldn’t do him much good if he was attacked two steps later, and - who knew - strangled to death by an obscure version of a centipede.

He kept his eye open, searching the ground. How hard could it be to find another branch, in a jungle, a place that was made of trees?! All he found to pick up was a thin twig that wouldn’t be of much help if anything larger than a fly was going for his throat, but it felt better than holding nothing at all.

Arek pressed his eyes shut, and opened them again, but the buzzing noise wouldn’t go away. His sight was blurred, and his legs were getting heavier with every step. He was sure that the wound in his side had began to bleed again, but he was too tired to check. Maybe he was just sweating, maybe the pain and burning was coming from one of his arms. It was hard to tell where which part of his body began or ended, every fiber was hurting, too many spots were hot and swollen.

The weight of the small apples seemed to slow him down even further. His thoughts were circling around them, their color, the memory of their juicy texture. No, he had to be sensible, they had become his only chance of survival, if he ate them, he was lost. Everything was coming down to his willpower. If he failed, he was dead, if he resisted, he survived, there was nothing in between, nothing outside.

No, that felt wrong, too. His hand touched his forehead.

 _Fuck._ He was coming down with a fever. He needed to rest, sleep, sleep, sleep, food, water.

 _Why don_ _’t you help me, why aren’t you here? I thought you knew this place…_ But all his mind would show him was Mojo scoffing at him, after laughing at him for being so stupid.

 _Can_ _’t say I don’t deserve it._ He laughed a little, or so he thought, as the only noise he produced was a croaking cough. He closed his mouth before the air dried it out even more.

Then, his heart wanted to stop.

For the first time since he had fallen, he saw something familiar.

Forgetting about all precautions, he limbed towards the ledge. Yes, this was, this was the spot where the whole nightmare had started!

Arek slumped down on his knees, staring at a dark spot that was his own blood. How much trouble and exhaustion he could have saved himself, if he had only stayed here from the beginning.

He unwound his legs and let himself fall on his back. The cool moss and grass felt wonderful against his sores, Arek even thought lying like this cooled his head a little. His arm weighted a ton when he lifted it to check his omni-tool. Repair status: 91%.

Good, he was as good as saved. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out one of the apples. After this slog he deserved a treat. He didn’t have to it all of it, just a little bit, a promise to his throat that there’d soon be more.

He bit off half of the fruit.

His upper body shot up. The apple dropped to the ground.

 _Hell_ _…!_ His mouth was in flames. He spat, unable to cough at full force, sputtering the juice over his lips. The soft skin blistered and cracked open, he tasted blood. Drops of juice burnt in his throat.

 _Help_ _…!_ Gasping and chocking, he crawled on his hands and knees towards the next pool of sludge. He didn’t give a damn what was in there, he needed something, something like water, to clean his mouth before it fell apart, or before he suffocated.

He didn’t reach the water in time.

A growl distracted him. His eyes followed the noise coming from his right.

From the thorny hedge, a creature of the size of a dog emerged. It sneaked up to him on short, bent legs. Its body was covered with a thick, grey-greenish hide. A stench of rotten meat came from its open mouth and filled Arek’s nose. Thick drool was dripping from long, sharp teeth.

 _Fuck_ _…_

It leapt at him, leaving Arek a split second if he was killed by the beast or releasing a last biotic shockwave.

 


	37. Biotic Damsel in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody needs help, others are searching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another evil cliffhanger, because I know how much you love them >:)
> 
> Also, I downgraded another canon item. Why keeping things easy if complicated is so much more interesting ~

One shot caught the snarling creature mid-air, hurling it back to the ground. The body switched, its growls died away with a gargle.

“Pests.” Mojo reloaded the assault rifle.

“Yeah, and the darker it gets in here, the more we’ll see of them.” Rezes was staying close behind his friend. Mojo had seen the beast before he had, and acted in time. The animal, a skendu, roughly resembled an overweight fox in size and proportions, with a wider jaws that broke through bones with ease. Its grey and brown fur allowed it to hide in the thicket, where it lay for hours until unsuspecting prey came in sight. The round yellow eyes, now fogged with death, helped it to see well in the dim light.

“Means we’ll kill more of them.” It was like he had never left. Nothing in here had changed over the years, and Mojo still found his way around like he did when he was young. It had been a while since he had hunted skendus for their pelts, but it was still as easy as he remembered. The good thing about them was that he didn’t have to go after him. All he had to do was keeping close to thick bushes and shrubs, and they’d come for him. All he needed were quick reflexes and a sure aim.

Hunting wasn’t what he had in mind, but his instincts helped him to infiltrate the deeper parts of the jungle. He’d go to the core if he had to.

Nightfall was arriving sooner here than for the rest of the world, once the sun had traveled to he other side of the sky, dusk would reign over the jungle while it was still broad daylight outside. He had listened to the call Rezes had received a while ago, from the captain. If they didn’t find at least a sign of Arek within the next hour she’d call back her officers. She wasn’t willing to risk a group of good men and women over one human. While he understood her reasoning it made him furious nevertheless.

Well, that was her decision, he hadn’t asked for help in the first place. He was glad to have Rezes with him, who was still the good, loyal friend from his old life, but he’d have to send him home soon. Rezes tried his best, but he wasn’t a hunter or an explorer, that much was obvious from his stumbling and cursing. He had never shared Mojo’s fascination for the jungle and wielding weapons, and had rarely come here once the obligatory dares among kids and teenagers had lost their thrill.

Rezes missed clues of animals close to them, and was so startled he dropped his weapon when they pounced. He was more or less just following Mojo as moral support. It wasn’t fair to endanger a friend, and if they ventured much further, sending him home on his own could cost Rezes his life.

“You sure this is the right way?” Rezes asked, not for the first time after they had settled for this direction.

“Not really.” The same answer like before. “But it’s as good as any other. And there was the bag.” The bag was indeed the only sign they had found that didn’t belong here. Footsteps didn’t last long on the ground, and any broken branches might as well have been caused by animals. First, they had walked just straight on, when Mojo spotted something out of place. A bag was dangling from a bush, and it contained an Alliance medkit, water, and food rations. The unappetizing smell had given it away - levo.

Whether Arek lost his bag or if it was placed there on purpose they couldn’t tell, but it was the strongest lead they had, so they walked on.

Temperatures were dropping, if there was something good to say about an evening or night in a jungle it was the absence of flies and mosquitoes. They rarely managed to bite turians, but they had an irritating way to buzz angrily around their heads and crawl into their clothes. Their flashlights confused some of the insects. Black dots were dancing in the beams of light, but they weren’t smart enough to realize the turians carrying the lights.

Sooner or later, they’d attract the curiosity of predators, or spiders, which would be worse as far as Mojo was concerned. He didn’t fear them, but fighting them off and the noises they and their bodies made when he killed them disgusted him.

“Zen? I know you don’t really want to talk about it, but…” Rezes hesitated, but talked on when Mojo didn’t tell him to shut up. “It’s about your family. Sure, your mother acts, well, it shocks me how she treats you. And then there’s your sister. But don’t you think, maybe you should-”

“You’re right, I don’t want to talk about it,” Mojo stopped him from saying more. “That chapter’s closed. And what they’ve been up to during my absence isn’t my business.”

“Maybe not, but maybe you’re wrong,” Rezes tried again. “See, we were pissed at each other, right? But we got over it.”

“Are you suggesting I should beat up my parents, and a ten years old girl?” He chuckled in spite of himself. He had to admit, a fight against his mother was a tempting idea.

“Hell, no!” Rezes couldn’t help laughing himself. “I’m not even sure who to put my money on, you or your mother. But yeah, I get you. Last thing though, I know you think she hates you, but think about it. She could have sent any of her officers after you, with an order to open fire on sight.”

“For Yuda’s sake I’m glad the old woman hasn’t turned completely into stone, yet. Do you and Lyret plan to have more children?” That his mother had figured out it was him who was snooping around didn’t surprise him much; however, how she had reacted to it did. She couldn’t expect his old friends to arrest him, or to survive a fight with an intruder unharmed. And neither of them would try to seriously harm him unless their lives depended on it, his mother had to know that. If that meant she didn’t want him to be injured or killed, well. It didn’t change much. The way she looked through him made clear how much she cared about her son, and he preferred it this way. He would have felt sorry for the sister he hadn’t known he had until a day ago if she had to grow up under the thumb of a heartless, cold woman.

“We have to see how we handle one baby, first.” Rezes accepted the change of topic. The genuine warmth and happiness in his voice made Mojo feel happy for his friend, yet there was a pang of jealousy. He didn’t see himself as a family man, and if he settled down, it wouldn’t be with a woman, the idea of biological children neither applied nor tempted him. He loved weapons, and the traveling that came with the job. However, proud as he was of his skills, he wasn’t sure if he’d call himself happy.

If he had a choice, would he choose the life he was living now? As a member of the Alliance? Would he want to return to Omega, or did he wish to return to his old self who used to live on Invictus?

He could answer the question about the warmth he was yearning for, he had to think about the rest later. Strange, he had been so busy with his grudges, that his only goal in life had been to separate Mojo from Zen. With the old anger coming to a rest, he was forced to reconsider who he was and who he wanted to be, and if he maybe already was all of this, or not.

First, however, he had to find Arek.

The more time passed, the slimmer the chance to find him alive became. The thought tightened his throat. Fantasying about what he’d do once he got his hands on Sadores distracting him from fearing the worst. It helped, but they still had to hurry. He’d find Arek, and if he had to search the whole damn place.

“Found anything?” Rezes hurried to catch up with him, the hope in his voice another sting in Mojo’s stomach.

“Unfortunately, no.” He sighed, pulled his bag from his shoulder and handed it to Rezes.

“You better go home. It’s only getting more dangerous from here, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. You should find your way back from here. If something goes wrong call me and the captain.”

“Zen, I can’t let you go on alone. I’m not that helpless around here.” He sounded sincere and refused to accept Mojo’s bag with additional medigel and water. But he also looked back over his shoulder, down the way they had come from, giving a low sigh.

Mojo waited for him to make up his mind, not bothering with arguing. Rezes had enough common sense to know that he was right. They were reaching a point and hour where he was becoming a liability instead of a help.

“Please tell the girls they shouldn’t worry their heads off. Amalthea and Meyrani, I mean, and Lyret. Arek and I’ll be fine.” Now, if he only believed his own words he’d feel a lot better. He was relieved when Rezes nodded. He wanted his friend to be safe, but he didn’t want a lengthy discussion that would cost him valuable minutes.

“Somebody’s going to find him, I’m also keeping my eyes open. Be careful, Zen. Mojo. Don’t you dare to disappear and show up in a decade with yet another name.” They shook hands, hugged, and Rezes started his walk home.

Rezes was a good guy, it was good to have him on his side. But for now, Mojo was again on his own, as he was used to. Nothing could slow him down except his fear to find a dead body.

He killed two more predators on his way through the jungle. He knelt down and turned the head of the last beast up, taking a closer look at its teeth. Sighing with relief, he let it drop and got up. Nothing, the fur around its snout was mostly clean, the only blood dripping from its mouth its own. This was the third skendu in a short time, and they wouldn’t attack him if they didn’t feel safe. The odds these three individuals were lonely strays were sinking, which meant, he had not only entered their hunting perimeters, but was coming closer to a pack.

Mojo’s heart was pounding in his chest, his throat dry. If Arek had gotten to close to a pack it was only a matter of time until Mojo would find his body, or what was left of it. He wasn’t sure what he would prefer - never finding a sign of Arek and living on with the hope he might be alive somewhere, or rather finding him dead than not at all, and at least knowing what happened.

A noise startled him, a noise foreign to the jungle and the growls and rustling he was listening for.

His omni-tool notified him of a message.

*

Arek was lying on his back.

The world above him was spinning, and he was past the point of feeling pain. Breathing had become a little easier, his throat wasn’t as tight as before. The fruit didn’t kill him, and that beast didn’t.

Not yet.

The shockwave had hit it, he had seen it before he collapsed. Too weak to raise his head or turn around, he couldn’t check if the animal was dead, or unconscious, or plotting its revenge.

He didn’t hear anything expect his blood rushing through his head. He blinked. Either his vision had faded from exhaustion, or it was getting dark above him.

Sleepy…

Hunger and thirst didn’t bother him anymore. He needed hours of sleep, food and water to replenished his biotic energy, but a short rest should allow him to use his body again. An hour or two. Three. Four…

“Hey!”

Arek closed his eyes. It felt good. His brain readily forgot about the dangerous around him, his muscles relaxed now they weren’t forced to be on constantly alerted.

His head dropped to the side. In front of him he’d see the ledge, if he opened his eyes.

“HEY!”

He lifted an heavy eyelid. He hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he saw a silhouette move. So the beast was back.

“Spirits, you really are alive! Can you hear me?”

Beasts didn’t speak, so, not a beast? Something was shoved under his back, and he was lifted up into a sitting position. Arek looked up at the blur above him, smiling.

“Hey…” That was pathetic, and hurt more in his throat than three letters should. Was this even audible?

“Drink!”

A bottle was held against his lips. Water, real, sweet water filled his mouth, soothing his tongue and running down his throat. He swallowed harder, wanting more, but the bottle was moved away when he began to cough.

“Slow. It’s okay now. What did you eat?”

He blinked a few times. His brain hurt, protesting when he pulled it back from the promised sleep. A face was taking shape above him, a turian.

“Eat?” He hadn’t eaten in ages, what a weird question. “Water…” His hands twitched, but his muscles refused to work with him.

“As much as you want, first tell me what you ate.”

A rough finger felt along his mouth, his skin hurt where it touched his lips. They were still hurting, and slightly swollen, but not as bad as before.

Suddenly, he remembered. He struggled to lift a finger, pointing at one of his pockets. The stranger reached for it, pulling out the second apple.

“Of course. How much?”

“Bite.”

“Good.” The voice sounded relieved. Why wasn’t important, the water that ran over his lips, cooling them, and into his mouth mattered. Water had never tasted this good, he swore he never tasted anything as delicious. There was still this lump in his throat, but it was getting smaller, and it became easier to breath and swallow.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t poisoned,” the stranger explained while Arek was drinking. “You’re not the first to make this mistake. A whole fruit from the macheek tree can kill, but hardly anybody gets further than the first bite. You can guess why.”

He definitely could. Only a tongue made of iron and lips of steel would be able to handle that darn apple that wasn’t an apple. What a beginner’s mistake, the others wouldn’t let him live it down. Why he had thought to find something edible for him in a dextro based nature was beyond him.

Arek sighed. His stomach was filled with water, and he felt squeamish, but less hungry. The thirst was gone, which was the most incredible feeling he could imagine while he was lying against a turian stranger, his whole body aching.

He raised his head and blinked, but the details of the face above him remained blurred. The voice was friendly, but not the one he knew.

“Mojo?”

“He’s on his way. He’ll be here any moment. I’m Rezes. Do you remember me? I handled your documents when you arrived.”

Rezes…no, didn’t ring a bell, but neither did documents, what documents? What did they have to do with water, and Mojo? Arek slightly shook his head, hoping the mess of his thoughts would fall into place. Sleeping would probably help, but he had to wait for Mojo, maybe he could explain who this guy was, on their way home. Gods, Mojo had to be pissed at him, for getting himself into this situation. He better got up and met him halfway, he didn’t want him to come down here.

He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t support his weight, his brain exploded in flames when he struggled for balance. Two hands grabbed him, and gently pulled him down again.

“Take it easy, we’ll get you out of here soon.” The voice was almost as soothing as the next gulps of water. With the help of Rezes, he emptied the whole bottle, and while water lacked the nutrition to replenish his strength, the fog in his head cleared a little.

“You got my message?” The words scratched in Arek’s throat and came out with a cough. He lifted the hand with the omni-tool.

“Mojo got it the same time your signal popped up on mine. I was closer to your position, that’s why I got here before him. Was it broken?”

“Yeah.” Oh Gods, it had worked! A sound from his omni-tool had hindered him from falling asleep after the creature had attacked him. Somehow, he had managed to activate it, and to send one word at Mojo - help. When his arm had fallen back to the ground he wasn’t sure if he had really confirmed it, but he had been too tired to check, let alone try again.

He sighed with relief, noting how much easier breathing had become. He was still exhausted, but he wouldn’t doze off against his will, at least for a little while. Unfortunately, as he was becoming more aware of his surroundings, he was also becoming aware of his body. His arms were numb and heavy. The wound in his side was stinging when he inhaled too deeply. He put a hand on it - it was seeping, and hot.

“Arek!” a familiar voice shouted.

He turned his head, seeing a figure coming down the ledge, more sliding and jumping than climbing.

“You just love an entrance, don’t you?” The stranger - what was his name again, Rezes? - sounded amused. “You could have used the rope.”

Mojo ignored him and knelt down in front of Arek. His hands touched his face, stroke through his hair.

“Spirits, you’re alive!”

“Kind of, I guess.” Arek’s grin turned out lopsided thanks to the pain. “Good to see you, you stubborn jerk.” So, now he only had to wait for Mojo to yell at him, calling him a stupid idiot, and when they were done with that, they could go home.

But Mojo didn’t say anything when he fell around Arek’s neck. He held him closely, in a hug that hurt Arek’s whole body, but Arek would rather have chopped of both his legs than giving as much as a wince.

“Better than being shouted at,” Arek chuckled when Mojo let go of him.

“Consider it postponed. Did Rezes give you something to drink?”

“Of course, _mom._ ” Rezes had waited patiently, allowing Mojo and Arek to have the short moment for themselves. “It was all I could do for him, my medikit isn’t really equipped for treating humans.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mojo pulled a bag from his shoulder. Arek recognized it as his.

“That’s mine! Where…how?” He watched Mojo opening it, and pulling out its content. He shook his head when Mojo offered him a sandwich. Hungry as he was, with all the water in his stomach he was slightly nauseous. As more memories of his trip through the jungle came alive, and the realization that Mojo and his friend weren’t a dream was sinking in, he feared he couldn’t keep any food down right now.

“Dammit,” Mojo muttered. The first injury he inspected were the cuts he had caused what seemed days ago. His fingers stroke over it, and Arek flinched. The skin stretched firmly over Arek’s arm, and pain shot into his hand and his whole shoulder at the light touch.

“Not looking too pretty,” Rezes commented with worry, Mojo snorted.

“Got some medigel in my bag.” Arek nodded at the small container with the valuable medicine. “Slap some on it, and it should get better.”

“You know very well that only works with fresh wounds.” Growling to himself, Mojo took the bottle of antiseptic. They had used most of it when he tended to the cuts back in Arek’s room. The remaining content wouldn’t be enough to clean the wound, but he sprayed it on the swollen flesh anyway.

“Why?” Rezes observed him in confusion. “I thought it’s THE wonder drug. I know there’s some in the doctor’s office, and a supply at the LSG headquarter, just for emergency cases like this.”

“It knits the flesh together while blocking the pain,” Mojo explained. “Works a bit too well, if I use it now the wound would close around the infection.”

Arek nodded, agreeing to what he already knew, but he’d have done anything for a little pain relief. Infection, there it was, the ugly word, and from how the spray burnt, his arm was in a bad state.

He leaned against Rezes’ chest, keeping his breathing slow and controlled while Mojo turned his attention to his other shoulder.

“Infected, too, not as bad though. Dammit, Arek, what did you do, swam through one of the swamps?”

“Hey, you said yelling was postponed,” Arek hissed through his teeth while Mojo emptied the bottle on the second wound.

“Yelling, yeah, scolding, no.” Mojo tried to wipe the dried blood away with a tissue from the medikit, but gave up soon. “A doc has to check this, and clean the mess properly. Any other nasty surprises? Hope not, we just ran out of antiseptics.” He shook the empty bottle, and dropped it back into the kit.

“Sorry, Mojo…” Arek bit his tongue while he dragged up his shirt. Dried blood had glued it to his skin, ripping it off hurt. Mojo and Rezes inhaled sharply, and for the first time in hours, Arek had a look at the wound in his side. His stomach was turning at the sight of the almost black edges of the wound, and the glowing red skin around it.

Mojo grabbed the rag again, and soaked it with water from his own bottle. More quickly than gently, he rubbed the flies crawling around the tear in Arek’s flesh away.

“We have to get him out of here, quick!” Rezes muttered. Mojo agreed, and Arek was the last one who’d argue against it.

“Can you stand up?” Mojo hesitated, trying to decide where to grab Arek to support him without hurting him more than necessary. In the end, he held out his hands, Arek grabbed them. Mojo pulled him up, but Arek’s legs slid away under him. A thunderstorm flashed through his brain, and he was losing his balance.

“Need sleep…” Arek’s head rolled to the side, his voice died away. This little bit of movement had exhausted him beyond measure, if he wanted to try again without fainting, he had to rest.

“Mojo, we can’t carry him and climb up there if he’s unconscious!” This was the first time Rezes sounded worried since he had found Arek.

“Fuck, I know.”

Arek listened to Mojo cursing. He snuggled against Rezes’ supportive body, and was already more asleep than awake.

A sudden sharp jab pierced into his already hurting arm. With a howl, Arek jerked up.

“What the hell…!” Rubbing his arm beneath the shoulder wound, he glared at Mojo and the syringe he was holding. Before he could say anything else, he began to tremble. The rhythm of his breathing was running away with him, and his heart fluttered in his chest.

He clenched his heart, gasping for air. Mojo and Rezes were at once above him, grabbing him by his shoulders.

“Calm down! It’s okay, try to calm down, breathe slowly!” Mojo reached for Arek’s face, stroking over his cheeks. His forehead was touching Arek’s, and he was inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. After a moment, Arek adapted to his pace. His eyelids were twitching, but after a while, his eyes began to focus. He stared into Mojo’s eyes, wondering if their green had always been so blindingly bright.

“Gods, you’re insane.” Arek gave a laugh as weak as his knees when he grabbed Mojo’s hands and was dragged up for a second time. He was shaking, but finally stood on his own feet.

“What the hell did you inject him?” Rezes asked in alarm, staring at Arek as though he was a ghost. Arek grinned, after all, _ghost_ wasn’t far away from how he felt, although zombie was closer to the truth.

“An adrenaline based mix that brings you back from the dead, literally. A last resort when a heart already stopped. Just hope yours won’t explode. How do you feel?” he asked Arek, who was leaning against him for support. Mojo’s rough hand touched Arek’s burning cheek, then his cold, sweat-covered forehead.

“Horrible, but awake. And you’re still insane.” Arek giggled, his speech slurred.

“Good enough. Now listen, and for Spirits sake, stop giggling.” He turned Arek around, facing him. Next, he reached around him, grabbing his ass, and lifted him up. Without a second of hesitation, Arek wrapped his legs around Mojo’s waist, his arms around his neck.

“Weird timing, but I kinda like your plan,” Arek purred, snuggling his face against Mojo’s throat.

“Spirits, is there anything in this galaxy that doesn’t get you horny?!” Flustered, Mojo glanced at Rezes, whose grin was overshadowed by his worried frown. “Listen, we gotta hurry! I’ll climb up that darn rope. All you have to do is clinging to me. You can flirt or faint or whatever you feel like once we’re up there, but for now, just don’t let go, got it?”

“Sure.” His exhaustion and the adrenaline rush threatened to tear his heart apart, but it was strong, he would survive. His head was buzzing, not only from the echo of the swarms of insects, but from his blood being pumped through his body, by his heart working like a jackhammer. This would end with the hangover of his life, if it didn’t kill him. He used the gifted strength to do what Mojo had told him, holding on tightly as if it was his last chance to hug him before his heart stopped beating.

“Rezes, you wait until we’re safe, in case he falls, okay?”

Arek didn’t hear Rezes’ answer. He felt his back bump against the hard ledge while Mojo climbed the rope. He apologized for being heavy, for making this so difficult, for his stupidity, or maybe he didn’t, it was hard to tell what was whirling around in his head, and what was really spoken. The effects of the adrenaline cocktail were already fading, returning his senses and his brain to the dark exhaustion. While he could still think he focused on clinging to Mojo, feeling the warmth of his body, hearing him pant under the strain of the additional weight. Arek pressed his face closer against him, inhaling the scent of Mojo’s skin. Finally, he realized of what it reminded him. Sand warmed from the sun.

“Figures.” He smiled. The pain returned as his heart slowed down. His arms…there was no strength left in his arms.

“Arek!”

_I_ _’m sorry…_ His arms slipped off Mojo’s throat, and he gave in to the soothing darkness awaiting him.

*

He was shivering, an unreal feeling. It had to be a dream, whatever dreams were in this world where his body was light and floating in a mild, blue nothingness free of time and pain. Yet, all of a sudden, the nothingness rejected him, pushing him back as pressure tightened around his body.

Arek blinked, whining in pain, then his eyes were open, rolling from one side to the other to find focus.

“It’s okay, you’re safe and we’re home soon. You can sleep now.”

“Oh…” He felt his weight shifted by the two arms carrying him, and his head rolled back against the firm chest. So he wasn’t dead. That was good. His eyes fell shut again.

 


	38. Closure...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The damsel is rescued, rejoice! Now it's time to patch him up. Arek's not the only one in need of patching, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK! A new chapter! With stuff happening!
> 
> Thank you for coming back. I'm still sorry for skipping last week. I'll do my best to not let this happen again. 
> 
> There might be, though, the danger of me having to take a longer break when the hot time of the year rolls around, which is here usually around the end of July until the end of August. I'll try to write enough chapters in advance to cover these hellish weeks, but I cannot make promises >_

“Thank Goddess!” After waiting what felt like days back at the car, finally, two figures emerged from the fringe of the jungle. Night had fallen over the them since Mojo had left together with Rezes. Staying behind, unable to do anything, had been chewing on Amalthea’s nerves. Strong as she was, with all her powers and, as she liked to think, with a decent sense for critical situations, all it needed to eliminate her usefulness was a damn killer forest and the fear that she might get lost, too, or hinder the others in other ways. Frustrating, and humiliating, over a hundred years of training and combat experience, and when her friend needed her, she was reduced to a child who had to stay out of the way while the adults were getting things done. 

With Arek missing and most likely in danger, it wasn ’t the right time for vanity and hurt pride. As much as she was aware of this, as much did she welcome every thought blocking her brain from musing about what might have happened to him. Relief waved through her when she saw Arek in Mojo’s arms, the euphoric intense proof of the darkness of her fears. 

“He’s alive! Goddess, he’s alive! Good job, Mojo.” She and Meyrani had stormed towards the small group. She touched Arek’s face. His skin was cold and layered with sweat, but he was breathing. He turned his head, his eyelids half-way open, giving her a weak grin. He would be okay. He was in a bad state, but nothing that could be fixed. She’d gladly have endured the pain of more fears and worries, she’d have traded the whole success of the mission for the sight of Arek alive and smiling. 

“Thank Rezes, he found him first.” Grumbling, his eyes avoiding her happy face, he moved around her, walking straight to the car. 

“We both _found_ him the moment his signal returned. I was just closer to the location and _reached_ him a few minutes faster. ” Rezes gave a laugh. Amalthea had only known him for a few minutes, and already sensed an air of indestructible kindness from this turian. The good-humored kind, and reliable friend. His wife, Lyret, had come with them, and now greeted him with a strong hug, her face glowing with pride. But neither his laughs, nor the open display of affection hid how tired he was. She had learned from Lyret that unlike Mojo, she and Rezes had only received basic training in self defense, as their career paths hadn’t lead them towards combats and arms. Amalthea felt warm appreciation towards Rezes, who, as a civilian, hadn’t hesitate to help rescue an outsider. 

“Wonder what’s more irritating to Mojo.” Meyrani laughed, her voice light with relief, as she almost giggled at her own words. “That he didn’t get to Arek first, or being praised.” She had been a model of composure during their wait, silent mostly, answering with a calm, reassuring voice when spoken to. Amalthea grinned at her, giving her back an understanding pat. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how young she still was. 

“Knowing him, both.” Lyret wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist and followed them back to the two remaining cars. Captain Cantura’s officers had returned to Laudatas a while ago, leaving behind the vehicles Mojo and Rezes had used, and the one Lyret had organized for her, Amalthea and Meyrani. 

“If you ever need him to shut up,” Rezes continued to explain, “Just remind him of something good he did, he usually gets too flustered to even remember what he was arguing about.” 

“Damn, we should have known that earlier.” Meyrani laughed, Amalthea joined her. It felt good. They didn’t hush their voices, and were well in Mojo’s earshot, who wasn’t too thrilled about the exchange. 

“Too funny, everyone. If you don’t mind, can we go back now and get to the doc? Quick?” 

Slightly guilty that her relief had carried her away, Amalthea hurried to his aide, helping him and Arek inside the car. Arek was alive, yes, but not in a good condition, and he needed medical assistance. Jokes and banter could wait until he could join them. Lyret and Rezes took the other car, calling back home while they started the engine.

“Of course.” Meyrani slipped past him to resume her place on the driver’s seat. With a wide grin, she turned around. “Hey, have you told your friends about that other time you saved Arek? On Noveria?”

“That was awesome,” a weak voice piped up. Arek had opened his eyes again and looked up at Mojo, flinching with pain when he chuckled.

“Unable to stand on your own feet, but already ganging up on me. Jerk.” Mojo stared out of the window. Neither of the others took his words seriously, and Arek was still grinning when he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

*

Doctor Corenas was a haggard man who wasn ’t in favor of nightly emergencies. He was tall, but skinny for turian standards, the way his back bent and hands ended in long, skinny fingers reminding of a ossified beanstalk. 

His mandibles were clenched tightly to his face in an attempt to hold back a sneer of contempt. The yellowish eyes looked small in his face. The plating was cracked like sun dried clay, giving more of his age away than he ever would.

“This isn’t a bar, you stay outside.” He ushered Mojo and Arek inside, blocking the way for the others with his arm. “You.” He pointed at Meyrani. “You come and help me.” 

Meyrani looked at Amalthea, who shrugged. Mojo, Lyret and Rezes were calm about the doctor ’s behavior, and neither of them protested. They were obviously used to this man’s behavior and didn’t expect differently. 

“Get moving!” he barked from inside.

“Do it for the greater good,” Amalthea whispered. Meyrani nodded, swallowed a growl, and hurried after the doctor. 

The room Arek was brought into was small, but sufficient. It wasn ’t short of equipment, most of it up to the newest medical standards. It couldn’t compete with the med bay on the Hamburg, but then again, it didn’t have to accommodate to the medical needs of more than one species. Grown up in one of the wealthier cities on Palaven, Meyrani didn’t spot many differences to the doctor’s offices she knew from her time before leaving her homeworld. Yet, this could be a problem.

“Are you trained in treating humans?” Meyrani walked up to the bed Arek was lying on. Mojo had taken a step back, making room for the doctor. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke a silent warning as he refused to let Arek out of his sight.

“Of course not. That’s why you’re here. Turian, experience with humans. You might be useful.” Corenas glanced over the shoulder wounds, and pulled up Arek’s shirt. Meyrani swallowed hard when she saw the ugly hole in Arek’s flesh. 

“I’m not a doctor.” She was willing to help Arek any way she could, but would have preferred something closer to her field of knowledge. Medicine was interesting, but she didn’t like the thought of gaining practical experience through treating a friend. 

“And I’m also a turian who has experience with humans, Corenas,” Mojo spoke up, his fingers twitching when Corenas’ talons scratched over the blood crusted edges of Arek’s wound. 

“And it doesn’t concern you that you aren’t a doctor. Now get out of here, kid.” The doctor didn’t waste time looking at Mojo. He waved Meyrani to come over, already pushing several tools and bottles into her hands. 

Mojo didn ’t move, but he also didn’t protest. He moved a few more steps back, watching Corenas and Meyrani closely, pressing himself close to the wall. Meyrani smirked, he reminded her of a pet that thought it was invisible if it only stayed out of the way after being told to leave the kitchen. 

The doctor shot a glare at him, but didn ’t say anything. For now, Mojo was allowed to stay. One word, or one wrong move, and he would throw Mojo out himself, and that was a promise. The wordless exchange didn’t last longer than two or three seconds, and Meyrani had no doubt that the doctor could be very unpleasant if things didn’t go his way. 

His hands were moving fast as he cleaned the wound. So far, her role was reduced to handing him the utensils he was pointing at. He was quick, efficient, and she was beginning to like him.

He was done removing the dried blood and dirt. Meyrani wrinkled her nose. She could stomach the sight of darkened flesh and skin, seeping blood and what looked like the beginning of festering. The smell, however, disturbed her, not only because of the sweet, foul scent of rotting meat, but because she didn ’t expect it from a comparatively fresh injury. 

Corenas picked a scalpel next, set it on Arek ’s skin, half an inch away from the wound, where it was still healthy. He hesitated, and pointed the blade at Mojo.

“Do you have any medications for humans?”

“Yes.” Mojo pulled a bag from his shoulder and handed it to Meyrani. “It’s Arek’s. Found it hanging from a branch back in the jungle,” he told her. “Antiseptics are empty, there’s still some liquid band-aid left. Used one of the two stim packs. Didn’t use medigel though. Because of the infection.” He directed the last words at the doctor with an air of defiance. 

“What do you want, a cookie for using common sense?” 

“Doctor Corenas, what caused an early necrosis? If that’s what it is.” Meyrani hadn’t planned to bother the doctor with questions she could look up later herself, she didn’t want to distract him from treating Arek. But she saw Mojo tense up, and from the stiff set of his mandibles she knew he was about to snap at the doctor. Who, she guessed, would hardly be impressed by one of Mojo’s fits, and the last thing Arek needed were two stubborn men starting a temper tantrum contest. 

“It is, obviously. Guess he got this baby somewhere in the mires.” He pointed at the wound. “The kelckbuckthorn is common there. Nasty thing, its thorns secrete a poisonous liquid once they reach a certain size. Look up the symbiosis between that plant and swamp monitors if you need to know more. Too bad you wasted good antiseptics on minor wounds. Well, ours have to do.” He interrupted his rumblings to grab a spray bottle from a shelf and tossed it towards Meyrani. “Use it when I tell you.”

“Will do. And thanks.” She gave Mojo a stern look, slowly flapping her mandibles. He better kept quiet from now on. It was touching to see him worried like this, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, aggravated because there wasn’t anything he could do, except not causing trouble. But he had done his part, now he better let others do theirs. 

She was watching how Corenas cut off the black skin and flesh. The rotting chunks were thrown into a metal bowl, quickly piling up to a smelling mess. 

Arek groaned. His eyes were still closed, his skin pale. Sweat was running down his face, his breathing was flat and fast. His body was twitching.

“Hold him down.”

She nodded, and hurried around the bed, putting down the items she was holding. One hand on his chest, one on his hip, she tried to stop him from twisting into the doctor ’s knife. 

“Spirits, didn’t you sedate him?!” Mojo had come closer, Meyrani could feel him fidgeting behind her back. 

“With what?” she snarled. His presence was beginning to irritate her. “Would you want to use narcotics developed for humans to sedate you?” 

“Well, no, but..”

“Then shut up, or leave. Go to your friends and Thea and tell them how you rescued him when everybody else was about to give up, but don’t make this more difficult than it already is!” The advice Lyret had given them was golden. She heard a sharp reply growling in the back of his throat, but he was unable to spit it out. 

“Not bad.” The doctor smirked over his work. “Too many words for my taste. Experience fixes that.” 

“Thanks.” She’d feel good about the doctor’s praise later. This situation would have been interesting and fascinating, if it wasn’t her friend who was bleeding from fresh clean cuts, with a gaping hole in his body even medigel would take more than a few hours to close. She shuddered when she realized how deep the wound was, but the rot seemed to be superficial. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but looking at Arek’s face, distorted from pain while he was caught in a feverish dream was worse. Despite her irritated speech against Mojo she wanted to hug him, and thank him without snark or sarcasm, for bringing Arek back.

She registered footsteps coming closer from the corridor, but kept her focus on Corenas ’ hands. 

The door opened, but he didn ’t even raise his head, or wasted his breath to mumble a greeting. 

Meyrani struggled against her curiosity, wishing to look professional in front of the doctor, but turned around when Mojo growled. 

“You! It’s all your fault!” Mojo had jumped around and pulled the gun he was still carrying, aiming at Mayor Decares head. 

“Mojo!” Meyrani shouted, but Captain Cantura was already standing in front of Decares, guarding him with her tall body. She was holding her gun with a steady grip, pointing it at Mojo. Her eyes were hard, her face unmoved, she was as determined to protect the mayor’s life at any cost as Mojo was to take it in this moment. 

“Lei.” Decares put a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “Please. He’s still your son.”

Meyrani had guessed this much since Yuda had stormed into the mayor ’s office on their first day. There had been something familiar about the captain’s face, but Yuda looked like a small version of Mojo. She could easily imagine them looking like twins before his fringe had begun to grow. 

And now, mother and son threatened to kill each other without batting an eye. 

“No need to get sentimental, Roras,” Mojo spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “She made this decision years ago. Wonder if she ever regretted not killing me back then.” 

“It’s my duty to protect this town, and my family.” Lei Cantura spoke with unyielding firmness, her face still unmoving without a glimpse of emotion. Meyrani was tempted to call her a cold, heartless creature, but she was Mojo’s mother. He hadn’t been much different during his first weeks with the team. 

“Yeah, your prefect little family, with your perfect little girl,” Mojo sneered back. 

_ Oh Spirits, please! _ Meyrani sent a silent prayer, and seeing the horrified expression on Roras ’ face left no doubt on the seriousness of the situation. There were too many variables she had to reevaluate. Roras was a high ranking criminal, but he didn’t want this, he cared for this family. Mojo wasn’t half as indifferent as he had wanted them to believe during their time together. Captain Cantura, proud and loyal as she was, she cared for her family, and while she acted like she didn’t acknowledge as her son anymore, she was pushing her daughter down a path the girl didn’t want to go. To turn her into a weapon expert, like her son was. How much of her stone_cold demeanor was an act, and how much suffering was really hiding behind it?

“Lei, please,” Roras tried again.

“Mayor Decares, I’ve always done a good job, and whoever he once was to me doesn’t change where I stand.” 

If her voice would only crack, just a little. If her eyes would only be wet, something in her face twitching. Anything. This way, Meyrani wasn ’t able to predict what would happen, if she would really shoot. If she did, Mojo would…He didn’t really want to, Meyrani was sure she knew him well enough by now to judge him. 

But he was emotional, tired, worried, and a fool with a crush. He wasn ’t thinking clearly, and now reached for the first opportunity to turn his frustration into rage. She thought quickly. Roras was appealing to the captain’s heart, to make her drop the weapon, an attempt doomed to be fruitless. Now, if she could think of the right words to make Mojo lower his gun, that should dissolve the situation. 

“Zen Cantura!” Corenas’ voice suddenly cut through the tension. 

_ Zen? Oh! Interesting.  _

“I brought you into this world, don’t think I wouldn’t take you out if I had to,” the doctor spoke on, his words sharp, while his hands were still calmly working on Arek. 

“Corenas, you…!” Mojo turned around, raising a fist towards Corenas, as though he wanted to leap over the bed and pummel him. But the hand holding the gun was down.

“Doctor, thank you, and we apologize for-” An impatient hiss shut Roras up.

“If this guy kicks the bucket because you kids think this is the time and place for your family drama I won’t take responsibility. And now, out! All of you!” 

Meyrani ’s impulse was to follow the subdued group outside, when she remembered that she was here to do a job. As impressive as it was to see this old man’s authority matching Roras’ with ease, the doc was right. Arek was the one they had to focus on, if Mojo and his mother wanted to fight out their family problems, they should do that elsewhere. Preferably without weapons. 

_ Zen Cantura, huh? Pretty. Wonder how he got from a name like this to Mojo.  _ She ’d ask about that story later. 

“You’re also the town’s midwife?” she couldn’t resist asking the doctor, and tried to imagine him comforting a worried mother-to-be, helping them through a risky birth. 

“It’s difficult to find good assistants. They talk too much. And the mothers seem to give birth faster when I’m doing the job alone. Antiseptics, then medigel.” 

Meyrani hid a smile while she covered Arek ’s wound with antiseptic spray. The hole was bigger than before, but looked a lot better without the foul flesh. She wondered if using grumpy, unfriendly doctors to speed up complicated turian births was a responsible advice to pass on.

*

Mojo took a deep breath. The air was warm and dry, and he inhaled a mild, sweet scent of flowers blooming early for late spring. The streets were empty. Light illuminated open windows, his ears caught the friendly chatter of families and lover sitting together. Despite sand and dust crunching under his soles the road felt clean, a soothing impression after struggling through the thick and overgrown mess the jungle was, that told him with every step that anyone not born there wasn ’t welcome. 

But he wasn ’t welcome here either. 

As his head cleared from the whirl of anger and worry, only two thoughts were left. Hopefully, Arek would be all right. And for a moment, neither mother nor son would have hesitated to kill each other. 

He had stopped to see her as a motherly figure years ago, yet, thinking about the scenario stirred something in him. It hurt, and saddened him. He wouldn ’t have hesitated, but he would have regretted it later, and the doubt that she’d have felt the same was depressing. He tried to remember if she had ever been on his side with this kind of firmness, but there was nothing in his memory. 

“Give me your guns.” Roras stepped in front of them, holding up his hands. He was serious, without a hint of his usual good humor or understanding friendliness. This was an order, and he wouldn’t tolerate any discussion. 

Which didn ’t stop Mojo from trying.

“Sure, so you can shoot me in the back. No way I’m giving this up while being with you, and _her,_ and without any other witness.” 

“Don’t you dare to talk like this!” his mother hissed, the grip around her gun tightening. 

“Enough! Both of you!” Roras stepped forward, ripping the weapon from her hand, unimpressed by her protest and the shock in her face. “Lei, you’re my friend, there’s no need to prove your loyalty and friendship to me by killing your firstborn!” He growled with an unexpected sharpness that made her shrink back for a second. Staring past Roras, she handed him her weapon. A sight Mojo would remember for the rest of his life. 

“And you! Stop acting like a child.” He turned at Mojo, again stretching out his hand, waiting for him to give up the gun. “Start counting how often we could have killed you. Back then, and within the last twenty-four hours, but didn’t. I want neither of you dead, and more importantly, I don’t want to see my best friend and her son killing each other.” 

Mojo sighed, still hesitating. Whatever Roras had to say, whatever he did for him, his mother, or Arek, couldn ’t undo the past and his body count. He didn’t want to be grateful, he didn’t want to ally with him. He didn’t want to let go of his older anger and hate. 

“I’d have to ask you to give it to me anyway. Please understand that you cannot carry a weapon when we see Sadores.” 

“Sadores!” Spirits, he had forgotten about him. Sadores, the one really to blame for what had happened. It hadn’t been Roras who lured Arek away, it hadn’t been his mother who shot him and left him to die. 

“How did you catch him?” he asked, still processing the news. So they got Sadores, and arrested him. That was a surprise. He had been sure they’d protect him, hiding him until they were gone and Sadores was safe.

“Catch isn’t the right word. Lei?” Roras looked at her, but she shook her head at the prompt to tell the story. With a sigh, Roras continued, “From what I know, he was at home, fixing dinner when one of the officers thought of checking there. He admitted his actions at once, and went back to the headquarter without a struggle. It was more meeting him and asking him to come along than catching him. I can’t tell if he regrets what happened. But he didn’t try to run away,” he finished, giving Mojo more food for thought. If Sadores didn’t regret his doings now, he’d do so soon. At least he wasn’t a coward, there was some honor left in him. Maybe staying and accepting his arrest and punishment was his way to atone for his crimes. He wouldn’t find out unless he talked to him. 

“Why would you let me see him?” Mojo still wasn’t convinced that Roras was completely honest with him. He couldn’t be.

“It sure wasn’t my idea,” his mother pressed through her teeth. To force her to give up her weapon - in this moment, she probably hated Roras as much as him. Mojo couldn’t deny the hint of glee he was feeling at this thought. 

“Lei. Stop. See,” he directed his words back at Mojo. “No matter from what angle we look at it, his actions were born from his anger at you. He was so blinded that he was willing to attack an officer and to kill an outsider. You are the core of his rage, and you are the one he wanted to hurt. It’s only fair that you get the chance to talk to him.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.” And he sure had a thing or two to tell Sadores, he had to just make up his mind if he wanted to use fists or words, and in which order. Fine, the chance to confront his ex in exchange for his gun was an acceptable deal. He turned it over to Roras. But he had more things to say, not only to Sadores. 

“You’re aware he wouldn’t have snapped like this if you hadn’t brainwashed him with your convenient little lies about me.” 

They had started to walk down the road. Roras was next to him, his mother behind them, a formation he would never have accepted if she was still armed. The headquarter wasn ’t far away, he could walk there and back within less than twenty minutes, if he were to set the pace. He wanted to give Sadores a piece of his mind, and quickly return, to see if Arek was okay, but Roras was taking his time, with their speed and with a reply. 

“I know,” he finally sighed, when Mojo had already thought Roras would ignore the remark. “And I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” Mojo believed him, believed the guilt ringing with Roras’ words was genuine, and he hated it.

*

Crime against a citizen of Laudatas usually came from the outside, and the measurements were final. The town ’s jail was small and rarely in use, and if it weren’t for the few heavy security doors, this area of the headquarter would have looked like a floor in a cheap hotel. Even for that, the room behind the door the captain unlocked was too nice. The walls were painted in a soft, friendly yellow. Bed, table, chair, a book shelf and a cupboard for clothes, all made of wood. There was a small bathroom, and although it was lacking a door, it granted a certain sense of privacy. Mojo had paid to sleep in worse places while he was still on Omega. 

Sadores was sitting at the table, drinking a red liquid Mojo suspected to be wine. A bowl and a half empty plate were standing in front of him. Nice. Sadores attempted to kill Arek, and was rewarded with free dinner. The guy was lucky that he wasn ’t running this place. 

“Hey, Zen. Heard you found your lover. Tougher than he looks. Thought I snuffed him.” 

Mojo stomped forward, his fist slamming into Sadores ’ face. The force knocked him off his chair and to the ground. Blood sprayed from his nose, leaving blue blotches on the white floor. 

Grabbing him by the collar of his cowl, Mojo pulled him up, and hurled him against the wall. 

“If you want to rub into my face why, here’s your chance, asshole. How did you even now that he…we…” Great, there went his air of intimidation. 

“That you’ve become an ape-fucker?” Sadores’ chuckle fell victim to a second punch to his face. Mojo let go of him and stepped back. Sadores slid to the floor, wiping the blood from his chin. 

“A hunch, if you want.” Sadores cracked his jaw back into its place. “You’re gay as fuck, no way you’d have some fun with the two women of your team. Left only him. Funny guy, honestly. Easy to talk to, a little naive. Some chatter was enough to get him to answer some questions.”

Mojo ’s fists were trembling, but he held himself back. Blind jealousy, that was all. Blind jealousy and hurt pride almost killed Arek, because he was the only man in the team. Nothing else had prompted Sadores’ actions. Spirits, he wanted to snap Sadores’ neck, after punching his face to a pulp, but what good would that do. Mojo stared at him, searching for the youth who had been his first boyfriend so many years ago. A proud young man, yet somewhat shy and unsure, often fearing that he wasn’t good enough for him. Maybe what he had once interpreted as shyness was in fact a form of jealousy, that had never shown its full ugly face because there wasn’t a reason in form of a rival. Another lover. 

Or maybe he was just trying to make sense of what Sadores had become. Mojo still wanted to punish him for what he had done, yet, there was a hint of pity glimmering through his dark anger. Sadores had once loved him, and the circumstances that had made Mojo leave had been affecting him until today more than anyone had thought. Nothing excused that he had tried to murder Arek, but also, it wasn ’t right that Sadores had suffered through the years because of him. It was sad to see him being reduced to this pathetic shadow of himself. Mojo began to feel like a bully beating up a helpless, sick person. 

“Do you want to kill him? Do you want the gun back?” Roras voice seemed to come from a far away place. Mojo had forgotten about his and his mother’s presence. They were standing behind him, blocking the door, and hadn’t said anything since they entered the cell, nor had they tried to stop him. 

“Give it to me,” he growled. Roras really returned the assault rifle to him. If he shot Sadores, it would be with a weapon from the LSG, not from the Alliance. That would save some paperwork, but didn’t mean this wasn’t a trap. No, this wasn’t a trap. He was acting in Arek’s name, the one who had been harmed by Sadores’ action, and Roras had selected Mojo as the one closest to him to settle the score. 

The weapon was heavy in his hands, and in a way he was yearning to be done with all this bullshit. 

He rose his arm. Sadores looked up at him, patiently, and Mojo searched for a plea for mercy in vain. 

Shooting Sadores. Leaving. Returning to Arek, waiting for his recovery, and leaving this town behind him, for good this time. 

It was so easy.

Too easy. 

He dropped his arm, and put the gun on the table. He didn ’t like the bitter taste of anger mixed with pity, but the thought of sweet revenge was spoiled for good. Should Sadores rot in this cell, he didn’t care. He might be the reason, but it wasn’t his fault that his ex had grown into this pitiful creature, overwhelmed and controlled by grudges and emotions. 

In the end, Mojo was only grateful he hadn ’t become like him, and sparing him was one step to prove this to himself. 

“I’m sorry how things turned out for you. Hope you get better one day.” There wasn’t anything else left to say. Sadores was still staring at him when Mojo turned around. Roras stepped aside, making room for him to leave the cell. 

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed from the walls. 

Mojo flinched from the pain in his ears, and jumped around, he head pulled down, his body tensed and ready to attack. The gun! If Sadores grabbed it from the table and-

But Sadores was dead.

His body was still sitting where he had left him seconds ago, slumped against the wall. His head was lying on his shoulder, blood trickled from the hole in his forehead. Small splatters of blood colored the wall blue where the shot had drilled through the back of his head. 

“Roras!” 

“Get somebody to clean up and to arrange his funeral.” The mayor returned the gun to Captain Cantura. She nodded, glancing at Mojo while she shoved the gun back into the holster. 

“Roras, why? Don’t you have enough blood on your hands already?” Mojo rushed towards him, pushing him against his chest. “He was sick! He-” once was a friend, somebody he loved. Mojo didn’t want him to day, just like he didn’t want his mother to die. 

“He was sick beyond help. He almost killed a member of the Alliance, and he risked killing Officer Serna Indalus to do so. You remember Serna, don’t you? He’s alive, but will never fully recover from the blunt trauma.” 

Serna Indalus, of course he remembered. Another family friend who had loved to play with Mojo and his friends when they were children. Injured for life because of a stupid jealousy drama. 

“Sadores was fully responsible for his actions. He had become a danger for the safety of our town, and therefore also had become my responsibility,” Roras continued, once again talking as the mayor. 

“It’s my fault…” Mojo stared at the corpse of his old friend. He hadn’t want this to happen, he never wanted to hurt anyone when he left, he was too busy with feeling hurt himself.

“It’s not.” The mayor was melting away from Roras, leaving behind a tired man with an exhausted smile. “You said it yourself, my lies were the reason he snapped. Don’t think, not only for one second, I enjoy all the things I sometimes have to do. But I too, had, and still have, a town to protect. I never thought I’d have to kill him, but it’s the final consequence of the precautions I once had to take. I’m just glad I don’t also have to kill you. So please, whatever you plan to do, don’t make me change that.” 

Mojo stared at him, trying to find the right words to say. Trying to find out what to think or feel. Roras took the blame, and relieved him from the guilt that was beginning to grow inside of him. Sadores was dead. Good, not good. He himself was alive, for now, and he had it in his own hands? Was this really the truth? Roras was a killer who didn ’t hesitate to pull the trigger or give the order to kill. Everything that had happened, from Mojo’s escape, destroying the bonds to his family, to Sadores’ death was Roras’ fault alone.

His projectile had brought closure to another chapter of his past, and destroyed the melancholy of the memory of his first love. What remained with a pile of bitterness and regret.

He was sick to see his face, to see the cold eyes of his mother, Sadores ’ corpse. Hating Roras, killing him, nothing would change the past or bring Sadores back and heal him. Nothing of this would heal Arek’s wounds. Arek. Spirits, he’d give an arm and a leg if he could bury his face in his hair, breathing the scent of warm, soft skin. 

“Do you want to stay here while we supervise the next steps and cleaning the cell, or do you want to go back to Doctor Corenas, and see how Arek’s doing?” Roras smiled at him with his endless, understanding friendliness that Mojo had learned to loathe, but even for that, he lacked the strength. 

Without another word, he turned around and left. 

 


	39. Paths of Today and Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life is over, the night isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those chapters that make me worry if it isn't too boring. But at least there's an encounter I was looking for since the beginning of the whole Invictus part.

Amalthea walked into Meyrani in front of the LSG headquarter. In the middle of the night, the streets were empty. The air was warm and pleasant, a reminder of the heat of the day. Laudatas was calm and peaceful at this late hour, although the light breeze carried the chatter coming from various gardens to them.

“Hope you didn’t wait too long. How’s Arek?” Amalthea asked when Meyrani shook her head.

“Alive, and sleeping. He’ll be fine, though it’s going to take a few days until he’s back in shape.” Meyrani’s smile was tired, her mandibles were hanging from her face, and hardly moved. She needed sleep herself, and she deserved a good night’s rest.

“That’s good. Thank you. Now, let’s go in and get over with this.” Amalthea gave her a quick hug. It was late, they had almost lost a friend, and Amalthea didn’t feel like formalities. They walked inside the building and headed for the elevator that would bring them to Roras’ office.

He was awaiting them with a serious face, looking as tired as Meyrani. His eyes lit up when he saw them, and he stood up to welcome them. He was glad to see them, and Amalthea could guess why - Doctor Corenas was sitting on one of the chairs for visitors with a sour face.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here at this hour, Doctor,” Amalthea greeted him, but her friendly words were met with a frown.

“I didn’t expect to treat two emergencies in one night,” he sneered in return.

“None of us did, doc.” Roras returned to his chair behind the desk while the two women sat down. A bottle of water and four untouched glasses were standing in front of the visitors. This time, Roras didn’t fill their glasses, and Amalthea hoped this was due to strain the events had put on him, and not a sign of growing hostility.

“I asked for Doctor Corenas to fill me in on Arek. I needed to know how soon he’ll be in a condition to travel,” Roras explained. He was friendly, smiled, but he, too, looked like he belonged in his bed instead of his office.

“The sooner the better, right?” Meyrani dropped her role as the silent observer, and didn’t bother to smile, or wrap her words in a friendly tone.

“Indeed, for several reasons.” Roras didn’t hesitate to admit what also Amalthea was guessing. They had figured out that Laudatas wasn’t as loyal as it seemed, and that Roras wasn’t the jolly mayor who served the Hierarchy. Well, in a way, he was, but now they were aware of his darker side. She wondered if they’d ever find out how dark. It had to be in his interest to keep the truth about him within the walls of Laudatas, but they were still alive, and he had made saving Arek a priority at once, over anything else. When he could easily have seized the opportunity to get rid of one of them. Although she expected consequences, she didn’t fear him, nor did she fear to fight for their lives.

But it was the doctor who spoke up first.

“Your friend is fine. I did a good job, given the circumstances. He needs to regrow a good portion of flesh and skin. If medigel for humans is worth anything, the wounds should be closed in two days. He lost enough blood to require either an transfusion or blood-building medication. Some hospitals in Shastinasio are equipped to treat humans. Get him there, soon. Good night.” He delivered his little speech in a crisp voice, hardly pausing between the sentences, preventing anyone from interrupting him. His words were final, and he stood up, making his way to the door.

“Thanks, doc,” Roras called after him, but Corenas only made a dismissive wave with his hand.

“He’s tired. I mean, he’s always somewhat cranky.” Roras shrugged, giving them an apologetic smile. “But first, there was Officer Indalus, and now Arek. He had a hard night.”

“True, and he didn’t lie when he said he did a good job,” Meyrani defended the doctor’s abrupt exit.

“I’m just glad Arek’s all right. For that alone, I forgive almost everything.” Amalthea had to admit, working with Mojo before his shell cracked had made her more patient towards grumpy, rude people. He obviously was a skilled doctor, that was all that counted. “Roras, that Officer Indalus, he was the one attacked by Sadores, so he could take his place as Arek’s guide, right? How is he doing?” Her heart sank when Roras’ smile faltered. She didn’t know Indalus, but as Sadores’ wrath had awoken after meeting Mojo, and escalated because of Arek, she partly felt responsible for that unknown turian’s fate.

“Less well than Arek, I’m afraid. He lost a good part of his eyesight, and worse, his brain was damaged. Corenas did what he could, be he can’t conjure miracles. Indalus is at home tonight, and is going to be transported to a hospital in Shastinasio as soon as his condition is stable enough.” Roras finished with a sigh, and Amalthea felt sorry for him and that poor guy. Horrible. But she had learned enough about Roras from Arek, Rezes and Lyret to see the part Roras himself had played in this tragedy.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re blaming me.”

“Well, you did your best to feed Mojo’s friends with lies about him to cover up your own crimes.” Meyrani developed a cranky side herself, after having to assist Corenas treating one of her friends. “You had to expect them buying your bullshit, after all, that was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes and no. I hoped they’d buy it long enough to get over the idea of starting a riot. They doubted Mojo long enough to avoid him until he ran away, after that, loudly siding with him didn’t help anyone. Rezes and Lyret are smart kids, I counted on that. And I was convinced I could count on Sadores. At no point I thought he might snap like this, nor did I want any of this.” He sighed, helping himself with the water bottle. “But I’m aware it’s my fault,” he said while he filled his glass. “I underestimated the strength of a romance between kids, and I didn’t keep an eye on Sadores. I regret that things played out as they did. I’m sorry that Indalus and Arek got hurt because of my misjudgment.”

“It’s in the middle of the night, and you still deliver well-worded speeches.” Despite the urge to snatch the glass away from him and emptying it over his head, Amalthea smiled. “You’re a smart man, Roras, and a perfect politician. Ever thought of choosing a honest style of governing Laudatas?”

“You don’t know much about politicians, do you?” He laughed, pouring water in two of the other glasses, shoving them towards Meyrani and Amalthea. “No, I get you. I’m glad you suggest something like that, you wouldn’t if you decided I was evil to the core. Which I’m not. But either way, this is still Invictus, and I’ll be any kind of mayor a town like Laudatas needs on a planet like this.”

“Even if it comes with a price,” Meyrani remarked dryly.

“Even it it comes with a price,” Roras echoed. “You’ve seen Laudatas. It’s peaceful, the citizens are happy and safe. We don’t know poverty. A life or two every other year is a small price. No, don’t argue.” He raised a hand to stop Meyrani from speaking. “I know what you want to say. I’ve decided keeping my home happy is more important than honorable ideals. You think differently, and that’s why I’m glad Mojo ended up with you. He doesn’t belong here, not because he’s not wanted, but because he could never be happy here, even if he tried.”

Amalthea nodded at Meyrani, a silent signal to let it go. While she agreed with whatever Meyrani wanted to say, she saw Roras’ point. She understood why he was acting the way he did, even though she refused to accept the thought that his way was the best way. At least, this town wasn’t living in fear and terror, and he spoke from his hometown with warmth and pride. And so he did about Mojo.

“I wonder, Roras. If Mojo wasn’t the son of your friend, would he be alive? Would you have tolerated that Cantura sent his old friends after him, instead of an officer to arrest him? And shoot him if he resisted?”

Roras looked at her for a moment, his mandibles moving slowly, his plates pulled into a thoughtful frown. Then, he shook his head.

“I wish I could answer with ‘yes’. But I don’t know. Wonder if Lei knows. I admit I was surprised when I learned what she did. She’s usually painfully consistent. ”

“Fortunately, she isn’t the mayor,” Meyrani muttered, taking a sip from her water.

“She’s not that bad. But you’re right. Doing my job her way wouldn’t be good for Laudatas, and for her. It would break her. Anyway!” He slapped his hand on the table, cutting off the chatter. “There are important things we need to discuss. As you can guess, I wouldn’t be very happy if your official reports forced the hierarchy to act against me. I hope I can convince you to leave out some details.”

“I’m curious how you think you can achieve this. Aside from threatening to murder us.” Amalthea leaned back, crossing her arms. Any signs of a smile disappeared from her face. Biotic energy pulsated through her veins, and she allowed a faint aura of blue light to flicker over her skin. Just for the split of the second. She was willing to go down with a fight if she had to, Roras better was aware of it.

“Please, Amalthea. I’ve done my best to assure you that I’m not after your lives, and I stick to my word. No, I’m willing to give you a share of Laudatas’s most valuable trade goods.”

“Which is?”

“Information.”

*

Mojo wanted to return to Arek, but after everything had gone wrong, he had to do what was right.

A quick omni-tool search had revealed Rezes and Lyret’s home to be close to the headquarter, and on the way to the doctor’s office. No detour offered an excuse to change his mind, and an illuminated window hindered him to walk on.

“You’re still awake,” he said instead of a greeting after Rezes let him in and guided him to the living room. Lyret was sitting on a sofa, her head lying on the backrest, eyes half closed.

“Tired as hell, but after a day like this it’s difficult to just lay down and fall asleep.” Rezes offered him his spot next to Lyret and pulled up a chair when Mojo shook his head.

“Yeah, was a fucked up day.” And it wasn’t over. He folded his hands between his legs, kneading his fingers. He liked what they had done to this place. He had forgotten the name of the family that used to live in this house when he was still young, but he remembered metallic, heavy furniture and walls so white it hurt the eyes. Former spacers, who felt more comfortable in a home resembling a spaceship. Now, the walls were painted in a soft orange, the furniture were dark and made of wood. Curtains and cushions were red or orange, and several potted plants gave the eyes a rest. A nice, colorful place to live and grow up in, so nice it made it easy to distract him from the reason of his visit.

“Is everything okay with your friend?” Lyret had lifted her head, the worry in her eyes and voice tightened around Mojo’s throat, and he nodded. Rezes returned from the kitchen with a glass filled with juice. From a fruit common on Invictus, tasting like a mix of orange and peach. It used to be his favorite.

Damn, he didn’t deserve friends like that, they didn’t deserve a day like this, and losing one of their best friends. The drink gave him another reason to delay the delivery of the news, but it wasn’t becoming easier.

“But something else happened.” Rezes had returned to Lyret’s side. Both seemed more awake than before, looking at him with a calm, yet tensed expression. “There’s something on your mind, spit it out and be done with it.” Rezes knew him too well, which was nice and a curse.

Mojo sighed and put his glass down on the table, resuming to crack and twist his fingers.

“So it’s really bad news.” Lyret moved closer to her husband, pulling his arm over her shoulders. “I can tell that much from looking at you. Please, just say it.” She was right. Sitting and staring in silence and letting their minds go crazy was cruel, and the opposite of making it easy for them.

“I’m coming from the headquarter. It’s Sadores, he’s…” The word was vibrating in his head but refused to leave his mouth.

“Spirits…” Lyret whispered. Rezes pulled her closer, and she put her head on his chest.

“Did you…?” Rezes voice was too low to tell what he was feeling when he asked.

“No!” Mojo’s head jerked up, he slammed his hands on his legs, his talons digging through his pants. “I hit him, yes, but I didn’t kill him! I didn’t want him to get killed! Damn, he was my friend, too, and what happened was also my fault. I wanted him to be punished but I didn’t want him to die! And Roras just…” His voice broke off. His head was spinning, and he had to catch his breath. With a sigh, he lowered his head and buried his face in his hands, but his body refused to let him find release in tears.

“Zen. Please come.” A hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Lyret’s grave face. She took him by his hand, pulled him up and with her back to the sofa. Rezes moved aside, making room for him to sit down.

“He injured Serna, and he tried to kill your friend,” Rezes said, the words dry and scratching in the back of his throat. Like Lyret, he put an arm around Mojo. “Should have expected him to end like this. I just…I just didn’t want to think about it…”

“We should have visited him,” Lyret whispered. “Thought of doing so, when I heard he got arrested, but…Thought tomorrow, maybe. No rush. Was a long day, you know. Spirits!” she suddenly cried out, clenching her fist. “If we only had talked more about you to him. We could have helped him years ago!”

“No, you know he wouldn’t have talked about it.” Rezes tone changed from soft to angry, as though he needed to defend himself for the actions he didn’t take. “He never did. Dammit, there were no signs he’d turn out like this!”

“Maybe we just didn’t see it, because it was convenient, thought of that?” Lyret snapped back, her voice and body trembling.

“And I could have tried harder to explain myself to him before I ran away. And could have contacted him, any time. But didn’t.” And he could have stayed away, he could have gone after him when they met again, trying to talk with him. He could have pleaded for him, instead of refusing to remember the death penalty for attempted murder. So many chances to take responsibility for his action, none of them a guarantee for a different outcome, and now they’d never knew if anything would have helped.

“It’s too late now. Blaming ourselves won’t bring him back.” Or heal Arek’s wounds, or Serna Indalus’ injuries. Mojo closed his hand around Lyret’s, and leaned his head against Rezes’ shoulder. He heard his friend sob, and soon, Lyret followed. He still couldn’t. Staring out of the window into the darkness, he was hurting in silent, grateful for the comfort of his old friends. The two who still remained.

 

*

 

He stayed with them for a little while longer. Sharing their grief made it easier to bear. They tried to talk about the good old times again, when life was still fun and without worries, and death had been a concept belonging to the elderly, and among them, only those they weren’t related to. But the stories wouldn’t flow. They had lost this old friend long before a projectile ended his life, and it would take them a while to look back at their youth as a time of unspoiled happiness.

They would learn to accept and live with this new memory, without bitterness, but the day that happened, Mojo would be away again, and this time, he wouldn’t return. Rezes and Lyret would remember him, would remember Sadores, while their lives went on and their family grew into memories of its own. Meanwhile, Mojo would still try to find his place, after coming to term with the loss of his friends. He wouldn’t run away this time. He tried that before and it didn’t work out.

The grief had become lighter, but his heart was still heavy when Doctor Corenas opened the door. The doctor, while still fully dressed, looked exhausted himself. Without a word, he let Mojo inside and let him into the small room Arek was sleeping in.

“How is he?”

“Healing. Biotics need sleep after exhausting themselves. He won’t wake up anytime soon, and is going to be hungry once he does.” Corenas didn’t wait for further questions. He hurried out of the room, slamming the door shut as if he wanted to prove his words. And indeed, Arek didn’t even twitch.

Amused, Mojo sat down on the chair standing between the bed and the window. Corenas was an excellent doctor, for turians, and not afraid of new challenges. But he certainly didn’t know much about biotics, and for a few seconds, Mojo entertained the thought of young Meyrani educating the old crank.

A small lamp was burning on a nightstand, pushing back the shadows around the bed with its gentle light. It had already been switched on when he arrived, making him wonder if Corenas had still been tending to Arek, or if he expected a visitor. Both was difficult to imagine, but just because Corenas didn’t bother much with his patients and their friends and families, it didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Mojo took a closer look at Arek’s face and shuddered. Peaceful, and waxen like a mask. Dark shadows below his closed eyes reminded of him still being a living being. His skin was whiter than ever, an unnatural contrast enforced by the rich red of his hair and stubble.

A blanket covered him to his chest, hiding the worst wound from Mojo’s eyes. The hole in his shoulder, where Sadores’ projectile had hit him, looked small and clean, now it was treated and dressed properly with medigel and liquid band-aid. Most of the flesh had already regrown, and new skin was beginning to knit the wound together. It would be healed by dawn, and nothing but a faint scar would be left after a day or two.

His other arm was in a worse state, but not as bad as before. Mojo could see that skin and tissue had been removed, deepening the ugly scratches even more. They’d been stitched together, and here, too, medigel was doing its job.

Mojo glanced at the door, half expecting Corenas to jump through it when he stretched out his hand. But it remained shut when he touched Arek’s arm. The skin wasn’t glowing in this alarming red anymore, and it felt cool under his fingers. The infection was gone, and while the scars were going to last longer, maybe forever, the arm would be fine soon as well.

Encouraged by this good news, he dared to pull the blanket down, and was worried and relieved when all he revealed was a traditional dressing covering Arek’s body. If it was this kind of wound that required being wrapped up the old fashioned way, it was bad, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it.

Quickly, he covered Arek again and leaned back in his chair.

So, here he was, where he wanted to be, and had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do to help Arek. Corenas - whether he used his own knowledge or echoed Meyrani’s - was right. If Arek had released all his biotic energy he needed sleep, lots of sleep. Multiplied by his body working on healing his injuries, this was more like a coma than a rest. He’d have to wait a few hours for a chance to talk to him, and to find out what the hell Arek had been doing to end up in this state. A few things he could guess, like the holes in his flesh. The blisters on his face and hand had already disappeared, probably thanks to a small portion of medigel. They’d have healed anyway, they were not life threatening, but painful. Mojo remembered too well his own first and last bite into one of these damn fruits, and didn’t want to imagine the pain they caused to soft human skin.

“Lots of stuff happened in a short time,” he muttered more to himself, and moved his chair closer to the bed. “Here. Since we met. Is it always going to be like this with you?” The tips of his talons moved through Arek’s hair. What would he reply if he was awake? This was the worst about Arek being like this. Not the wounds - the silence.

 _Well, you_ _’d probably laugh, back away and tell me to better not fall in love with you. And make a speech about how much you want to fuck, and how sad it would be if we didn’t because of, well._ He pulled his hand away. It felt wrong to push affectionate gestures on him when he couldn’t react to it.

After today, everybody around them had put one and one together, and made an educated guess what’s up with him, so Arek would have an at least vague idea as well. Arek was the one who adamantly insisted on purely sexual relationships.

So the next step was up to him. Mojo would leave him alone, and accept whatever he was offered.

Before anything, however, Arek had to recover, and they had to resume their mission. There were still names to hunt down, and a projectile to plant in Murakos’ skull. It was almost funny how easy it had been to forget about an on-going conspiracy against the political order of the galaxy and intergalactic killers. Neither cared about the deaths and lives of one turian’s friends. This was one of the rare moments he wished he wouldn’t have to care about them either, and focus on his own business, and the people important to him.

A life he could have had if he had stayed in Laudatas, if he had accepted Roras’ lies. It was possible to live like this and be happy. Rezes and Lyret did, and they were good, honest people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He had chosen his path, and when he thought about how easy it had been to run away and rebuild his life from the scratch, he wondered if maybe, even without Roras, the lies, the murderer, he would have chosen to leave his hometown anyway at some point.

Well, he’d never know. What he did know was he didn’t belong here anymore, that after all the places he had seen, the people he had met, the situations he had experienced and survived, he wouldn’t be satisfied with living in a nice house in a small town any time soon. He’d be sad to leave Rezes and Lyret behind, but he was looking forward to go back on their mission. And to more missions to come. Hell, his fingers were itching to hold his sniper rifle again. Hunting beasts in the jungle was one thing, but didn’t compare to taking out the bad of the galaxy with a well aimed shot.

Yet, he didn’t regret coming back anymore. He had learned more about himself in these two days than in the last few years. And about his friends, old and new.

 _New friends, eh?_ He looked at Arek. _Wouldn '_ _t it be nice if things were that simple?_

Of course, he didn’t expect a response. Had he ever seen someone seen sleep this deeply? He almost envied him. For the first time since afternoon, he was coming to a rest. Some of his sadness still lingered, but with all worry falling from him, he was feeling the force of his own exhaustion. His back and shoulders hurt, more from the tension than from the march through the jungle, and his mind refused to be tortured with more thinking.

He made himself as comfortable as possible on the hard chair, stretched his legs, and waited to nod off.

His head snapped up at the door swishing open. He squinted his tired eyes, trying to make sense of the small shape standing at the other end of the room who didn’t look like Corenas at all.

“Oh, it’s you!” he finally said, and the little girl looked at him with a puzzled frown.

“Who are _you_?” Yuda slowly moved towards the bed, struggling to keep her eyes on him without glancing at Arek for too long.

What should he answer?

 _Hi, I_ _’m your older brother our parents never talk about because they consider me a traitor after I left this hell of a planet before mom or your ‘Uncle Roras’ could kill me. Oh, and I know who you are because I spied on my former family and hacked a few computers since my arrival, no big deal._ No, not exactly what anyone would consider a good opener for a conversation.

But Yuda had already forgotten about her question. With wide eyes and twitching mandibles, she stared at Arek, flinching when she noticed his wounds.

“Is he okay?” She took a deep breath, straightening her back and pulling back her shoulders, putting on a brave face. She was ready to accept any bad news there might be to deliver.

“Yeah. He’s just exhausted. Needs sleep.” He smiled as the tension disappeared from her, leaving a happy young girl behind. He had only seen her from afar. Now, that she was so close, he took the opportunity to study her face. For her ten years she was a little small and skinny, not much unlike he was her age. He was grateful for the huge age difference between them, if he was closer to her age, still in his teenage years or early twens, she had to notice the resemblance between them. What still gave it away was the color of their eyes, the same shade of green.

“Are you friends?” She seemed to have decided Arek would survive if she didn’t pay attention to him for a moment. With a curious stare not much unlike Mojo’s, she inspected his face.

“Yeah. Name’s Mojo.” He withstood the urge to turn his head away. He didn’t like to be stared at, and there was still a small chance she’d figure out the dark family secret. But avoiding her would only give her a reason to be more suspicious, and from what he had read and heard about her, she was a smart kid.

“Hi, Mojo. I’m Yuda Cantura.” She leaned over the bed, stretching out her hand. He hurried to meet her half-way before she lost her balance and fell on top Arek.

 _I know,_ he almost said, but bit his tongue and nodded instead. She didn’t need to know that.

“Arek’s my friend, too,” she began to chatter, suddenly a lot more at ease. “We’ve met a bit ago. Well, I thought his name was Ethan, but I heard Roras and mom calling him Arek. Why did he lie?”

 _Okay, she_ _’s not just smart, but also bold._

“Good question.” Again, he could hardly tell her the truth, and the longer he hesitated to answer, the more obvious it would be that he was coming up with another lie.

“We’re from the Alliance. We need to find someone on Invictus, and the mayor offered to help us. We used fake names so the guy wouldn’t find us. It’s some kind of surprise.” Yeah, that wasn’t the full truth, but also not a lie, that should work. He could declare the details to be the business of adults.

“Oh, you’re after a criminal! Awesome!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement in the dim light. “Hope you can catch him. Uh, but it isn’t Uncle Sadores, is it? Heard he was arrested.”

“You hear a lot of things.” Mojo inhaled deeply. He didn’t want to think or talk about Sadores anymore, and he didn’t want to explain what happened to him to a child. He had already done a horrible job at breaking the news to his friends, he had no clue how to wrap the truth up for a little kid.

“I don’t know everything,” he finally lied. “I think he hurt someone, but can’t tell for sure. Maybe Roras or your mother know more?”

“I’ll ask Uncle Roras, tomorrow.” Fortunately, she seemed to have bought the story, or she realized she wouldn’t get more answers from a stranger and gave up asking. Maybe she was satisfied with all she had learned that she’d leave and go home.

“Say.” She glanced at him, smirking, and sat down on the edge of Arek’s bed. “If you all used fake names, what’s _your_ real name?”

Mojo couldn’t hold back a chuckle. This kid had some nerve. So much for his hope of her giving up and going away. She might look like him, but her behavior reminded him of a certain redhead.

“Let’s stick with Mojo, okay?” He wished differently, but truth was, he really was beginning to like her. He had a little sister, and she was adorable, and this was probably the only chance in their lives to talk to each other.

“Everyone calls me that,” he added, amused by her reproachful frown. “Names aside, anything else you want to know? About this dork here.” He poked Arek’s cheek with the tip of his talon. “Or our ship or so?”

“Deal accepted.” This sly little brat saw right through his attempt to smoothly change the topic. Well, maybe he wasn’t as smooth as he had hoped.

“Well, bring it on!” He grinned back at her, guessing he was about to regret his offer when she took a deep breath.

“Why do you work with the Alliance? You’re turian. The others also aren’t human! Where’s your ship? What’s its name? Is it big? Can all of you use biotics? Are you a cabal? Does Arek have a girlfriend?”

 


	40. The Cantura Family - Now and Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cantura siblings have one thing in common: They want answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 40, just one week too late. Man, I feel horrible. I'm sorry. There are so many stupid things keeping me from writing lately. The weather, health issues, the death of an actor I've worshipped since my childhood. 
> 
> Also, there are more fics I'm dying to write, which lead to a vicious circle: I really want to write about Dylan Shepard. No, I can't, not before I've finished chapter 40. Let's write chapter 40. But can't I write both...no, if I write on another fic I'll neglect BVC. I shouldn't write anything else before having finished at least three chapters. So the sooner I start with BVC, the sooner... The result? Giving in to the steam summer sale and silencing the nagging voice with naughty casual games. 
> 
> You can probably guess where this is leading.
> 
> BVC is taking a summer break for July and August, which usually are the hottest months here. 
> 
> This doesn't mean I'm not going to write anything during this time. I'm going to write anything I want whenever the weather and my time allow it. I want to throw more Dylan Shepard at you, I also have a list of ideas for other small ME fics I've wanted to write for months. And I'm going to write more BVC, of course, but won't update before the end of August. 
> 
> I think this is the best solution before the frustration shows in my writing, and I really hope you'll forgive me the semi-hiatus.
> 
> Thank you for reading and supporting this story for 40 chapters, and I hope you'll be back for more when Arek, Mojo, and the gang return in a few weeks!

“Wait, wait, one after the other!” Mojo laughed. He had brought this avalanche of questions upon himself, and Spirits, wasn’t he grateful that she didn’t ask the last question first. Was there any appropriate way to explain Arek’s lifestyle to a child? There wasn’t anything odd about it in many other places in the galaxy, but unless Laudatas had changed over the last years, people here still valued a, well, more old-fashioned way of life as the only respectable choice.

“Well, why do I work for the Alliance.” Good question. Sneering at his superior he’d rather work with humans than under the command of an inept turian too stupid to lead a squad to success was one part of the truth, as was the exchange of less charming pleasantries that followed. He better left that out.

“They asked my old team for a good sniper, and I was recommended to them. Thought why not. There’s lots of shit going on in the galaxy, and some fleets prefer skill over race. We also have salarians and drell on our ship.” And some of them improved their skill of being an asshole to perfection. She didn’t need to know that either. He wished to meet her again when she was an adult. He wanted to see her face when she learned about her two rivals, a fucked up drell and her older brother.

“Oh. You’re a sniper, too.” Odd, that she’d pick up on this part of his answer. Mojo raised the plates above his eyes.

“So you’re a sniper in training. You don’t sound very excited.” He had seen her stats when he browsed through the data he could find in her school’s network. The results were impressive, and he couldn’t deny seeing her having an interest in training his favorite kind of weapon softened his initial anger about her existence. He hated the thought of his parents dealing with his disappearance by just having a replacement, but that wasn’t Yuda’s fault.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She shrugged, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, letting her legs dangling from the bed. “I’m pretty good, it’s kinda fun. But I like shuttles more. I wanted to join the mechanics class, but mom didn’t let me.”

“Why’s that? Did she tell you the reason?”

“She said she’d be sad if I left to work on piles of scrap metal. And that she’s so looking forward to having me on the LSG one day.” Yuda sighed, the little noise heavy with sadness and frustration. “Don’t want mom to be sad.”

“I see.” _Fuck, mom, are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you?_ And there he had thought he was just a grudging, paranoid idiot when he saw Yuda as a replacement. Obviously, it wasn’t enough that they looked alike, no, that damn bitch was trying to turn her into a copy of a guy she didn’t even know existed. Poor kid.

“Is she nice to you?” he asked gently. Difficult as it was, he tried to ignore what he was thinking of her now while remembering her from his childhood, how it really was.

“She’s awesome!” Yuda’s voice suddenly vibrated with warmth. “She’s awfully nice, and loves it when I’m doing well in school! She’s just…” Her grin turned into a defeated smile. “She doesn’t let me go anywhere alone. Always calling my friends’ parents. It’s so embarrassing!” she cried out with the pain of an overprotected child that won’t stop growing despite all of her mother’s efforts.

“But Uncle Roras is on my side. He sometimes lets me tinker with the shuttles and spacecars.” Her mood changed yet again, from desperate to mischievously, and seeing her sly smirk, Mojo feared she was spending far too much time in the presence of her beloved Uncle Roras. “And mom hates saying no to him. Love mom, but Uncle Roras is more fun.”

Mojo believed the last part at once, although he didn’t understand what this damn bastard was hoping to achieve by going against their mother’s wishes. Sure, maybe he just liked the kid, who was, after all, the child of one of his closest friends. But supporting Yuda in something her mom wants to deny her, why? There had to be a reason, and if there was, it had to be as rotten as Roras himself. Brooding about that was far more productive and less uncomfortable than Yuda’s description of their mother. Not necessarily what she said, but how. Yuda’s mother didn’t match the stern, dignified woman he had grown up with. Yes, she used to be proud of him, too, when he came home with top results, but there had always been a distance between them he couldn’t cross. As though she had refused to leave the ‘Captain’ at work once she came home.

“What about your dad?” He remembered his father as a kind, quiet man who could roar with laughter when a joke tickled him. He and his mom were a team, so he’d rarely pick Mojo’s side, but unlike her, he showed more warmth. Maybe that came with his profession. Mojo tried to imagine his mother as an instructor, teaching groups of children and teenagers. This… was an alternative reality he didn’t want to consider ever again.

“Dad’s the sweetest, almost as much fun as Uncle Roras. Wish he was at home more often,” her wistfulness alarming Mojo.

“He isn’t?” When his father wasn’t teaching, he was a full-blooded family man who loved waiting for his child and wife to return home.

“Comes home late most of the time. And is away most weekends. He’s awfully fun when he’s at home, says he has so much work to do, but…”

“But?”

“Nothing. He has much work to do, that’s all!” she said with a grim determination that failed to fool him.

 _Fuck, dad! Have you both lost your mind?_ He had a not too vague idea what a family man was doing when he developed a habit of avoiding his home. Mojo didn’t even blame him if his father really found another woman who gave him the warmth and love his cold-blooded wife wasn’t able to give him. But damn, this wasn’t something their little daughter should have on her mind.

So there was this new child of the Cantura family, his mom had softened as a mother, his father was fleeing from his home. This family had nothing to do with the one he had grown up with. Things had changed after all.

Lyret and Rezes had tried to convince him to talk with them, to make his peace with them, maybe to even reunite as a family. He had scoffed at this suggestion just yesterday, but Yuda’s parents didn’t have much to do with his. There was no meaning in reuniting with these strangers, also, he didn’t have much to do with the child and youth they once knew. They all had their own problems, trying to connect was as pointless as his grudge.

He only wished he could do something to help his sister. She suffered because he and his parents had failed as a family, this wasn’t right. He doubted a nice talk over a cup of tea with his mother would change anything, and getting his father to stand up against his wife? Mojo would rather be voted to be the next mayor before that happened. But Yuda had enough spark in her, she’d go her way, even when it wasn’t going to be easy.

“What about my other questions?” She wasn’t about to give up her curiosity, but now, Mojo welcomed the opportunity to change the direction of the conversation.

“Let’s see… You wanted to know about our ship, right? It’s the SSV Hamburg, a cruiser. It’s patrolling the Parnitha System for a few more days. And yes, it’s pretty big. You’d like it, it has a nice shuttle hangar.” He smiled when her eyes became a little wider for a second. It was a shame he couldn’t give her a tour. He should ask their mother anyway, just to piss her off.

“How many people live there? How many turians?”

“Well…” Damn, he had no idea. He had inspected the ship thoroughly once he had arrived, for no other reason than figuring out where to find some quiet and peace. The number of people - too many. He looked into the small face. Green eyes watched him with curiosity. He better came up with something, if he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Well,” he began again. “If you want to fill all posts, including the squads, you could give this whole town something to do.” If this was wrong, he’d declare it to be the rhetorical element of exaggeration.

“Sweet. You think there’d be enough space for a trainee in that hangar?”

“Absolutely! Let me tell you about the vehicles they have there…”

*

Meyrani and Amalthea left the headquarter in thoughtful silence. They had reached an agreement with Roras. Neither of the two women was sure if it was really what they wanted, but given the circumstances, it was more than they could have hoped for. Roras was more or less kicking them out as soon as Arek would be able awake and had a good breakfast. He insisted they weren’t parting as enemies. They were to leave together with Officer Indalus, Sadores’ other victim. They’d use the tunnel, a faster route to Shastinasio, and much safer than Roras had pretended it to be less than 24 hours before. He had admitted his lie and apologized for it, and they accepted. There was nothing else they could do.

In the end, they were better off than before. They wanted to leave quickly anyway, and taking a tunnel connecting the two locations was to prefer over traveling through the desert. If Arek wasn’t injured this would have been a welcomed change. And if they didn’t worry whether they really could trust Roras or not.

Worse, their decision didn’t matter, they had no choice but trusting him.

“Should we see Arek, and tell Mojo the news?” Meyrani asked. They had reached their hotel and were only steps away from their beds and the sleep they needed. Amalthea tilted her head, pondering the thought for a moment.

“No. That can wait until tomorrow. We all need some rest. Also,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper when they opened the door, “I don’t want to run into something I don’t really want to see.”

“I doubt Arek is in the shape for anything like that. And don’t forget, our dear Mojo has recently mutated into Mr. Overprotective.” Meyrani giggled, following Amalthea upstairs and down the corridor.

“As right as you probably are, I’m not taking any risk.” They had reached her room. Yawning, she entered the key to her door. “Well, we have a long day ahead of us. Go and get as much rest as possible, that’s an order.”

“Aye, Ma’am!” Meyrani saluted. Amalthea threatened her with her fist, but her smile made any danger of a punch unlikely. The asari disappeared behind the door, and Meyrani hurried to her own room.

Once there, she locked the door behind her and activated her omni-tool.

Slowly, she moved through the room, scanning it for bugs or cameras.

Nothing.

She took her time to scan it once more, making sure she didn’t overlook any corner in the room, bath, nor closet.

Again, nothing, just like after their arrival.

Roras might not have been the most honest man in the universe, but at least he wasn’t spying on them.

As a loyal woman from Palaven, she couldn’t forgive him his treason. As a young woman, she wanted to believe there were other ways to ensure this town’s happiness and prosperity.

Yet, she didn’t allow loyalty and idealism to blind her. He was a traitor, but of another caliber as Cerberus and the self-declared turian elite she had witnessed before. He didn’t kill for enjoyment or to raise his power. He was exactly where he wanted to be, and intended to stay there, realizing his vision of a peaceful town on a planet funded on crime.

And he didn’t kill Mojo, and he didn’t hesitate to provide any help he could to save Arek. This didn’t cancel out his murders and betrayal, but she valued her friends more than her Palaven pride

Meyrani was willing to acknowledge his good sides, which made it impossible to believe he was thoroughly evil. She also didn’t believe it was impossible to change him and his ideas about governing. But they didn’t have the time to find new ways, they didn’t even have had the time to figure out what exactly was going on in the shadows. All she had were hints, drawn from the conversation with him.

Information, and, as he had explained it, the talent to look the other way in the right moment.

Yeah, talent, right. Information, agreements when to look the other way, the knowledge of those agreements. It sounded so simple when it really meant incredible power in the hands of someone who knew how to handle it.

A power which could turn out to be more dangerous than beneficial if he took a wrong step.

Drawing the attention of the Systems Alliance to him when he killed four of their members would be such a wrong step. So maybe his willingness to let them live and to help them was nothing but calculation.

Or he really had a soft spot for Mojo and Arek. Maybe both. With the little time she was going to have left in Laudatas she wasn’t able to gather all the facts she needed to complete this puzzle, which was irritating.

Assured there weren’t any devices observing her, or assassins waiting behind the curtain to shoot her from behind, she pulled her laptop from her bag and threw herself on her bed.

She entered her password and confirmed her identity with a scan of her hand, unlocking the computer.

Opening the messenger, she wrote, “Stop playing dead. YOU brought us here. We almost lost Arek, and you couldn’t know they wouldn’t kill Mojo, or that he wouldn’t run amok. How much do you really know, and why didn’t you tell me?! If you want to keep my trust you owe me the truth!”

She sent the message. Leaning back, she stared at the screen. All she could do now was waiting, and if this asshole didn’t give her the answers she demanded, she’d find him and beat them out of him herself.

*

Mojo yawned and glanced at Arek. His worry was matched by his envy; he’d have given up an arm to lie down in a bed and sleep like that. Hell, he didn’t even need a bed, he was certain he had never seen such a cozy looking floor.

Yet, he had enjoyed the last hour. Back on the ship, when he had heard where their newest mission would lead him, he thought he’d break down. And if he didn’t break down, he’d die in a firefight against Roras and his mother. If he told his past self that one of the most pleasant moments in his hometown would be chatting about shuttles with his little sister, he’d have declared himself insane.

Yuda was buzzing with energy. She had interrupted Mojo several times, finishing his sentences with her own knowledge, even correcting him a few times when he got his facts wrong. Which he, of course, couldn’t let her get away with. Like she was the only one in this family being into shuttles! Well, he used to be more interested in races, while she was obsessed with the mechanical side, but it didn’t matter. In no way he’d let her have the upper hand, which resulted in a fierce discussion about engines. It was a miracle that Arek didn’t wake up, or that the doctor didn’t storm into the room to kick them both out.

As nobody complained, they had a good time, but he was reaching his limit. He was mixing up numbers, forgot names and details of different models, and began to repeat himself. She’d beat knowledge and experience with unyielding endurance. An unfair fight, after all, she only had been to school this day and sneaked out of her room to get here, while he had to save a friend from peril!

“You still haven told me if he has a girlfriend!” Yuda glared at him.

“I didn’t?” The question seemed to come out of the blue. After their intense talk about shuttles, he had expected she’d have forgotten about it. He sure had, until she brought it up again.

“No!” Suddenly, she giggled. “You like him, don’t you?”

“This useless fool?! Good joke.” He laughed, not believing for one second he convinced her. “Like I’d admit something like that to my rival,” he added, delighted by her bright giggle. If she only knew how funny the situation really was. How would they have handled it if they had grown up together? Jokes? Fights? Would he have comforted her because she was a child, or laughed at her for the same reason?

“What?” She had stopped laughing, wearing a skeptical expression.

“What do you mean, what?” For once, he wasn’t trying to buy time, if he had done anything, he had no idea what it was.

“You’re giving me that look. Dad looks at me sometimes like that. Mom, too. It’s weird.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all. Had been a long day, you know.” Damn, he had been staring at her? Well, at least he didn’t have to excuse himself with a complete lie.

“Yeah, that’s what they say, too.”

And now he was as curious as her what was going on in their parents’ heads when they had to bring up the same excuse.

 _Great work, mom, and dad. Pretend any harder there_ _’s nothing you’re keeping from her and she’ll figure it out before the year’s over._ At least he wouldn’t be here if that happened, he had had enough conflicts with this family for a lifetime.

“Yuda,” he said, looking at her with a frown. He’d regret what he was about to do one day, but maybe it was the only thing he could ever do for her as a brother. “Do you have an omni-tool with you?”

“Uh, yes?” Her fingers glided over her wrist, and her slim bracelet began to emit a soft, blue light. Within a second, a small screen formed. Plain as it looked as a piece of jewelry, Mojo recognized it as one of the better devices for civilians. Fast, reliable, many useful features to enhance everyday life without causing any trouble.

“I’m sending you my contacts,” he said, activating his own tool. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some kind of weirdo looking for a mail buddy. But if you’re in trouble, if anything happens, shoot me a message.” While he was typing anyway, he added a note about her birthday. It shouldn’t be difficult to get his hands on an omni-tool with a few not so civilian features which promised some fun for a smart kid interested in techs and mechanics.

“Thank you!” She smiled when she was notified of the incoming contact. “You guys are nice,” she said as she deactivated it. “The lady also promised to give me her contacts. She said she’d help me when I want to study away from Invictus.”

“That’s good. You can take her by her word.” He suspected the lady being Meyrani, but he also wouldn’t be surprised if Amalthea had promised to support the kid. A shudder tingled down his spine, and it took him a moment to understand. If things ever went to hell for this kid, if she couldn’t stay at home for any reason, she wouldn’t be alone. He glanced at Arek, not doubting for a second that he’d do what he could if asked for help. They all were… good people. Better than he deserved, and despite that, they’d help out his sister. And maybe there was a chance they’d meet again in a few years after all.

_Thank you._

He realized he was smiling at Arek when Yuda giggled again.

“Guess neither of us is the subtle type,” he said, winking at her, and they both snickered. In a moment like this, it was so tempting to brush all caution aside and tell her who he really was. He didn’t care if she got angry at their parents for all the lies, but was it right to destroy her world like this, while she was still a child?

“Yuda!”

Their confidential moments came to an abrupt end.

Captain Lei Cantura, their mother, was standing in the door, let inside by a doctor whose glares could have melted the glaciers of Noveria.

 _This_ _… really is a different woman._ A weak shadow of the old bitterness returned. When he once had come to her, with his anger and fears, and told her what he had seen, she had been the calm, collected captain.

Now, her uniform was disheveled, the vest was buttoned the wrong way, as though she had just grabbed and slipped into it on her way outside. She was barefooted. Her mandibles twitched, the eyes widened even more with worry when she noticed Mojo. He snorted.

“You have a lovely daughter, Misses Cantura,” he said with a sickly sweet voice, tilting his head as a gesture of greeting her. “I assure you, despite being a complete stranger, I didn’t harm her.”

“Thank the Spirits!” She surprised him with a grateful shimmer in her eyes. Then her full attention fell over her daughter. She stormed towards Yuda, threw her arms around her, and lifted her up.

“Mom!” the child wailed, in protest and fear of the inevitable punishment that would surely hit her any moment. But her mother pressed her against her chest, sighing.

“We almost lost someone in the jungle today. I thought you were… Yuda, never run away, please! I beg you. Never run away like this again!” Mumbling her pleas, she walked back to the door. Yuda was speechless, her face mirroring her confusion.

 _You_ _’re pathetic_ , Mojo would have loved to say, but he bit down his tongue. Whatever he had to say about his mother, he didn’t want Yuda to witness any of it. The kid better enjoyed this caring mother while it lasted. Or until she was fed up with this dotting control maniac.

“See you, Mojo! Take care of Arek for me, yes?” Yuda called over her mother’s shoulder before they were out of sight.

“Sure thing! Take care of yourself, kid!” He waved after her and smiled, then their mother stopped.

“Yuda, please, go with the good doctor and wait with him at the front door.” She let her daughter down, commenting the doctor’s protest with a glare before she walked back into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Hi, _mom._ ” His mandibles slid down, turning his smile into a humorless grin of bared teeth.

“I’m making this quick. I’m grateful you didn’t tell her who you are, thank you.” There she was again, the captain, stern and rigid. She didn’t need a tidy uniform to stand as a model of authority. “Don’t expect this to change anything, Zen. Yuda doesn’t have a brother. You made your choice, and we all learned to live with it. You’re not a part of this family anymore. The sooner you leave, the better it’s for everyone. Do you understand?”

“Sure. Wouldn’t want you to lose your happy family life. I’m sure you _and_ dad are happier than ever before.” He smiled through his words, but she didn’t miss his knowledge of a different truth ringing in his voice.

“Try to destroy my family and you’ll regret it,” she hissed through her teeth, her mandibles clenching to her face. She took a deep breath to keep her shoulders from sacking, turned around, and left.

Mojo leaned back and sighed. This could have turned out uglier. They didn’t yell, no weapons were drawn, he even had managed to break through her shell and hurt her. He wasn’t sorry but missed the sense of satisfaction he had hoped for. In the end, he hadn’t lost anything, he hadn’t gained anything, and the glee about his family’s subtle unhappiness was melting into pity.

“Your… sister?” a weak voice whispered.

Mojo’s head jerked around. Arek looked at him with a pale smile, his eyes were half open.

“Dammit, you’re supposed to be asleep!” He pulled his chair closer to the bed. He reached for Arek’s hand but stopped before he touched the cold skin.

“And miss the show? Ow!” Arek’s attempt to laugh turned into a flinch. His body squirmed, and his face became a grimace of pain.

“Don’t move! You’ve got an ugly hole in the side of your body. No danger, no damaged organs, but still bad. Also, your arm and shoulder wounds got infected.” Mojo gave him a quick rundown of the injuries, mentioned in what a bad shape Arek was, but that all he had to worry about was the pain.

“Yeah, explains why everything hurts like hell,” Arek growled, carefully trying to shift into a comfortable position.

“You really should catch some more sleep. Your state of exhaustion was as bad as your injuries. How the hell did you manage to release all of your biotic mumbo-jumbo anyway?” Mojo leaned over once it was plain that Arek wasn’t willing to drift back into sleep, and supported him to sit up without causing more pain than necessary.

“Just the usual. Biotic spheres, pushing back swamp monsters, you know the drill.” He winced one more time, but finally, he was sitting. Mojo wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Arek was still too pale, his eyes didn’t fully focus. As ridiculously small as the exercise was, it had been enough to cover his forehead with sweat.

“Damn.” But yes, this explained Arek’s state. The last time he had used a biotic sphere he had fainted from exhaustion, and he hadn’t landed on thorns after being shot back on Noveria.

“No offense, but your jungle sucks.” Arek chuckled, holding his side. “But if you hadn’t, eh, convinced me to use a sphere by throwing me out of a window that other day, I’d never have thought of using one. It saved my life today, so I forgive you.”

“Too generous.” He didn’t feel like smiling or chuckling as he was becoming aware how close they had been to lose Arek. As aware as he was of the jungle’s dangers, his thoughts had been circling around the fear of not finding him in time. When Arek could have been dead hours ago, if they hadn’t sneaked away from their official objective on Noveria. If they hadn’t been discovered. If he hadn’t managed to break the window… No, he couldn’t know this. He didn’t know much about biotics in general, so there’s no reason to believe Arek wouldn’t have used a sphere to save himself from a fall anyway. This was a question Mojo was never going to ask.

“How do you feel? You had a fever earlier,” Mojo changed the topic. He stood up and walked around the bed, to the nightstand. A water bottle was waiting for a thirsty patient. Mojo filled a glass and offered it to Arek while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks! Just what I need!” Arek raised the glass to his lips, drinking eagerly. “And I’m fine, just a bit tired, and damn hungry,” he sighed as he gave the empty glass back.

“Fine, sure.” Mojo looked at the shaking hands. Arek needed more rest. He needed food. Maybe he needed medicine, something to make him sleep, the doc should have a look at him. As he had no idea what to do, he refilled the glass, which was emptied as fast as the first.

“Keep this up and you have the honor to help me to the next bathroom,” Arek joked, leaning against the pillow Mojo had propped up behind his back.

“I’ll leave that to the doc. Who better takes a good look at you, now.” Mojo wanted to be here, and he wanted to be away. He couldn’t hug Arek, he didn’t feel like teasing or mocking him. He couldn’t hide behind sex anytime soon, so all he had left were words he didn’t want to say.

“Hey. Zen.” Arek’s hand reached for his when he was about to stand up. Puzzled, Mojo sat down again. “That’s your name, right? Zen Cantura. The captain’s your mother, and Yuda your sister. An adorable little sister… looking like you…” His voice was soft but too gentle to blame it on his weakness.

“How long have you been listening?”

“Not sure. I think the first thing I heard was her calling Yuda’s name. And she called you Zen. Gods. I’m so sorry.” Arek didn’t specify what he felt sorry about, he didn’t have to. Mojo had needed some time to sort his own rage and thoughts after he learned about Yuda. He didn’t expect Arek to grasp the whole situation a few minutes after waking up from the dead.

“Zen,” Arek repeated again, and Mojo flinched. Hearing his name felt like a stab in the neck.

“Hoped to tell you myself one day.” He looked at the small hand covering his. He still wanted to leave, but… maybe not as urgently as before.

“I see.” Arek turned his head away and stared at the ceiling. The silence was growing between them, weighing heavily on Mojo, threatening to crush him. It had been a stupid thing to say, under different circumstances, a, well, suspicious remark like this would have chased Arek out of the room.

“Instead, you could tell me one day when it’s okay to call you by that name. How ‘bout that, Mojo?” His head rolled back to face Mojo, and Arek smiled.

“Thank you. I mean, really. Thank you.” _Fuck this, calm down, dammit!_ He wrapped his hand around Arek’s, gave it a short squeeze, and hurried to stand up before Arek noticed he was smiling like a fool. “Let me get the doc, okay?”

“Better get me food!” Dismay fell over Arek’s face, his voice pleading as though he hoped to prevent a cruel fate befalling him. “But no apples, please.”

“The doc, _and_ apple pie, got it.” The doc would strangle him, or at least threaten him with more painful means to end him for waking him up, _and_ pilfering his fridge for anything edible for a human. But seeing Arek’s smile returning was worth the trouble.

Mojo opened the door, turning around before walking through it,

“I’m glad you’re alive, you damn fool.”

“Me, too, you stupid jerk. Trust me, me too.”

 


End file.
